


Theos

by Liuny



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Sherlock (TV), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Blood and Gore, Bondlock, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Explicit Sexual Content, Guide!Q, M/M, Other, Q is a Holmes, Sentinel!Bond, Slow Build, Soul Bond, Torture, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-28 12:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liuny/pseuds/Liuny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was on a butchered mission for MI5 in Stockholm that Guide Q and Sentinel James Bond found each other. Q just wanted to lose his V-Card and James was just dragged along for the ride, nothing more. It was a shame that Destiny had other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting with Destiny

**Author's Note:**

> Here I'm playing by my own rules, so canon? What canon? The Sentinel rules normally accepted in this trope, will probably change to suit my needs. This is a WIP and I don't have a BETA, but at least I know what I want to do... so, there is that. Q is underage in the first chapters and said chapters are heavily focused on sex, but there is a plot in there, too. I'm not sure how much Sherlock and his gang will appear, at least the first chapters, so yeah. 
> 
> I'm posting this story with great prejudice, so be polite if you are going to disagree... I can deal with flames, but they make me upset and an hour later, I just forget about them... other than that if you have my same kinks, welcome and enjoy!

Greyson Holmes didn’t know if laugh or be spitting mad. He looked at the man in front of him. Blond, steel blue eyes; rippling muscles and he smelled musky and spicy with an undertone of sandalwood and the adrenaline ejecting from every pore of his body, _a sentinel._ His mind supplied, snorting. A sentinel whom had saved him when there was no one to be saved. _No really._ Everything was happening in a controlled environment, but he was a Guide and all Sentinels were idiots when a Guide was around. Cavemen fool, the lot of them.

“You didn’t need any saving, did you?” His _saviour_ spoke, wincing. Greyson narrowed his eyes and then he fell on the fact that the sentinel had noticed that he was porting a concealed gun and an earpiece... it was most likely he could hear the beeping of his tracking device and the voices coming out of his earpiece.

“No.” He answered trustfully, looking at the sentinel to his eyes.  

“Crap, I just butchered a MI5’s mission.” The man growled annoyed. Greyson noted the man also had an earpiece, which probably informed of the situation. “I’m an agent too. Bond, James Bond.” His _saviour_ introduced himself lending a hand, with the intention of shaking it. The man didn’t know he was a guide, then.  Greyson found this internally amusing.

“Ok. Bond, James Bond.” Greyson snorted, accepting the hand. The sentinel jumped startled. Yes, that is mostly the reason why Sentinels don’t go touching Guides if they can avoid it. Greyson felt everything the man was feeling: guilty for having butchered a mission. He was excited that he was in a fight that was three to one and he won, hands down; there was something sexual going around and there was a disdain that he couldn’t quite identify, _why._ He was no Sherlock Holmes after all. “It’s fine…”

“You’re a Guide.” The man said trying to conceal his disgust. Did this man didn’t know anything about Guides? He couldn’t conceal any feelings from any guide in the world, unless he filled himself with so many pills and special patches; he would probably pass out and choke in his vomit.

“There is no need for the blatant show of disgust, Sentinel Bond.”

“ _Agent.”_ The man corrected pointedly. Greyson frowned, trying to fight the smirk back… interesting.

“My apologies, Agent Bond.” He offered to placate the man. James only grunted. Default sentinel answer, grunts and growls. Honestly…

 _“Given that a MI6 Agent just interfered with this announced failure.”_ He was right, this mission had been problematic since the very beginning and Greyson wasn’t even an agent, or old enough to carry a gun, legally. _“He will take you home. MI6 and MI5 had coordinated everything already. We have done reservations in the Nobis hotel, tomorrow we will give you new orders respecting the mission.”_

“Whatever.” Greyson sneered at his brother. “Did you hear that?” He asked to the sentinel, knowing that he _could have not, not_ hear.

“Even if I couldn’t, my Quartermaster just told me I have to take to the Nobis.”

“Acknowledged, M.” Greyson spoke to the earpiece.  “Gamma, rho, alpha; upsilon, out.” And with those words he took the earpiece out of his ear and walked to pick the laptop which was few meters from where they were.

“Do you have everything?” Bond asked the young man in front of him, curtly.

“Yes.” He answered nodding politely and walking to where he formerly was. “Do you need something?” Greyson asked in exchange when Bond didn’t stop looking at him.

“Can you give me your gun?”

“What for?” Greyson asked flabbergasted.

“I don’t trust Guides with firearms.”

“I have no problem in giving you my gun.” Greyson began, not giving any signs he was going to pull his gun out of his holster. Bond relaxed marginally. “But I won’t give it to you, just because I want to spite you. You will have to endure the uncertainty of not knowing if my gun will go off or not in an accident.” He taunted the man with a smug smile. “Come along, Bond. We need to get a cab to get out of this awful cul-du-sac.” Bond just grunted again, following the child closely.

Greyson arrived two minutes later to the street and stopped a cab, Bond presence suffocating him from every angle. He did what he did best and closed his presence all together. He had partially opened his aura; because the thugs needed to _find out_ he was a guide. But nobody, _nobody_ ever knew he was a guide, to be honest; most of the people that meet him for the first time thought he was a _Sentinel._ He heard Bond, gasping behind. Greyson turned. Bond seemed disoriented for a few moments, having lost the anchor that every Guide offered to the sentinels to a certain degree without the bond.

“You don’t feel like a guide anymore.”

It was really interesting to see how Bond, after his ‘Guide Vibes’ disappeared completely, turned into a different person. He was less rigid and was more openly.

“I apologize. I don’t usually let my aura open to anybody, but it was necessary for the mission. Sacrifices have to be made, after all.”

 _“_ _Ska du_ _någonstans_ _?_ _”_ The cab asked him, annoyed.

 _“Ja. Till Nobis hotel.”_ Greyson answered in an accented Swedish. He could feel James confusion. The cabbie just grunted. A Sentinel that was a cab driver, well, world was full of surprises for him, that night:  a sentinel that didn’t like Guides and a Sentinel that was a cab driver. “Let’s go, Bond.”

“Right.” The man answered. They both boarded the taxi and the cabbie began to put the car in movement. “So… what is your story?”

“Whatever you mean?” Bond asked, snorted.

“I mean, I know some bigots, in this time and age that thinks Guide should just ask how high he/she should jump, but you are not like that.”

“I will tell you what my problem with you people is. First, you are a nightmare to be around.” _Interesting._ Greyson thought, listening to all that James Bond was telling him, attentively. “You people are quivering flowers that die if the environment is too fearful or sad for your delicate sensibilities. You live your lives vomiting, if you shake somebody’s hand and he feels a little bit strong to your tastes, sometimes the only thing it takes for it, is for the feeling to be around. You are clinging, you are always crying, you are always being the building yenta. Should I continue?”

“Oh.” It was Greyson eloquent answer. “Seen many guides in your life?” He snorted, really amused.

“So far? I have been bonded to fifteen guides.” Well, that was certainly surprising. “Is that good enough for you? You are all the same, I don’t even know of the government allows you to work for them. Do you know? There was this pair I worked with, once…” Greyson just cocked an eyebrow. “We were forced to stop the fucking mission, because the little flower needed a little bit of comfort. Honestly, we were almost killed for it. And not only that, mundanes should shut their traps and not talk about things they know nothing about… mundanes crying blue-murder for Sentinels to stop oppressing their Guides. Are they dumb? The only thing you have to do is to release a whiff of pheromones and we are like dogs to your beck and call or drooling messes because of the pain. You get a paper cut and our instincts forces us to be there to make sure you aren’t bleeding to your fucking death, even if we _know_ you only cut yourself with paper. Yeah, I can see how you are our bitches.”

“I can see your point.” Greyson was really amusing. “Did all your bonded die?” He asked inquisitively and a little bit insensitive, truth to be told. _Fifteen guides._

“No. Some had died, but mostly I just go to the Sentinel and Guide Centre and put a requisition to break the fucking bond.”

“Wow and they allowed you that, for more than ten times? The only way that happens is if you find your One-True-Guide or if the _Bond_ is so unsupportable it makes you zone.”

“There is no such thing as the One-True-Pairing.” Bond snorted derisively. “And yes. All the bonds had been a nightmare for me, so excuse me if I’m not jumping of happiness at having guides around.”

“It’s fine, you have causes. I don’t like Sentinels much, either. Quid pro Quo.” He offered turning his eyes to the beautiful, blurry sight of Stockholm. 

“Really? That’s odd. I thought you Guides were all hot and bothered for Sentinels.” 

“I did want a Sentinel once. I have three older brothers, they all are Alpha Sentinels; you can imagine than nightmare, but it always felt good to be buffered by them. I’m not compatible with anybody; I’m a Theos Guide, which is an obnoxious way to say that I burn any sentinel I try to bond with.”

“I thought Theos Guides were a legend.”

“Well, meet the legend Agent Bond. I am quite real. I tried to bond, once. I was happy being my brothers’ guide, but my parents found this obnoxious Sentinel that… it was really traumatic. He courted me, like if we were in the nine hundreds and when we tried bond…”

“His head exploded?” Bond offered some levity to the situation. Noticing how bad the environment just turned, that even the half-backed sentinel driving could feel it. James felt like he had never felt before with a guide, maybe it was because they both had some degree of enmity towards their genes. But if there was a guide he could be friends with… he had found that one. He smirked when he saw the kid choked with his drool, because of the laughter.  
  
“You are a horrible human being, I like you.” That answer made Bond chuckle amused. He couldn’t believe that was happening right now, but he was not going to complain.

“To answer to your silent question…” The young man told Bond, looking at the windshield. “He was rushed all hush-hush to a nursing home; they put a red-flag in my file and tattooed me like cattle.” Greyson lifted his short sleeve to show him his right arm. He never wore short-sleeved shirt. “It’s beautiful, of course…” He mumbled to Bond, the blond agreed. It was a masterpiece, not too big; certainly delicate, it was all sheen on whites and gold and shimmers.

“But it’s still a mark…” James breathed looking at the tattoo. The kid just shrugged and lowered the sleeve.

“I just learnt how to close my aura completely and live like a mundane. It’s much better.”

“Doesn’t that make you twitchy?”

“I close off everything that goes out, not what comes in. I mean, I can do it… close everything both ways, but as you so cleverly put it: we are quivering flowers and a bout of anger will kill us. We feel without a limb without our _physic powers._ ” 

“Fine… I totally deserved that. I was exaggerating.”

They left the taxi and entered the hotel, walking in silence toward the reception, where a man in a suite spoke to them in perfectly accented British English. Gave Greyson a card key and desired him a good night, notifying him that Room Service was a 24/7 service.

Greyson’s room was in the last floor in the middle of the hallway.

“Well, there you go your majesty… all safe and sound.” James spoke when Greyson put the card in the door’s slot and then opened in a soft click.

“Safe and sound, indeed.” Greyson answered deep in thought with his lips caressing his cracked lips.

“For a guide, you are not half bad.” Bond admitted with a crooked smile.

“Be still my heart!” He mocked with theatrics. That left both smirking madly. “Would you like me to teach you?”

“What?”

“To close your aura so you can have sex with a guide and not fell pray of the bond?” Greyson asked. He didn’t know why… there was something about James Bond; he couldn’t put his hands on it. “That would make you one hell of an agent, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s impossible. I fuck a guide, if he or she are bonded I will create a secondary bond and then I will be probably killed or fucking attached to the Pride.” Bond would kill himself first before having a Pride. He was a lone wolf.

“As I say… you could have all the benefits of a guide, without the bond.”

“What do you want in exchange?” James asked full with suspicion. 

“To be honest I just want to have sex with you.” That surprised James greatly, even if most of the mundanes considered Guides sex deviants, because of their particular traits and pheromones, they were fucking prudes with their: ‘Saving myself for my sentinel’ gig. Bond’s dick twitched, sex with a guide was good, _always good._ It was the only thing he didn’t object from Guides and you couldn’t have it anyway. “And I need to tell you how to do that, in order to have sex with you.”  

“Well, this is the most romantic thing somebody had told me to get me to my bed.”

“I’m pragmatic.” Greyson shrugged. He had been searching for someone to lose his virginity to. It had to be a mundane, of course. But the truth was that no mundane sexually attract him and Guide/Guide copulation… let’s say you had to _have_ the kink. It was like bondage or cross-dressing, not for everybody. He didn’t mind, but then again he belonged to a very small portion of the population.

“And you say I am going to accomplish that in a few hours?”

“You know what the issue with humans is, in general?”  Greyson asked. Bond frowned. “It’s that the made everything complicated, nothing that follows a natural order is complicated. Water evaporates; condense in the atmosphere and when it reaches its peak, it falls down; there is nothing overly complicated…”

“What’s the trick?” Bond asked curiosity picked. “I will sleep with you.”

“I would have told you without you wanting to.”

“Brat.”

“Have you zoned?”

“Tons of times.” All sentinels zoned uncountable times during their lives.

“Do you know what happen when a zone occurs?”

“Senses overwhelm and the brain shuts off.”

“Such funny creature, with your tiny little brains… when you zone you will yourself stop being a _sentinel.”_ Bond opened his eyes wide. How is that he was finding that now? “It’s a conflict between your brain and your second (not secondary) brain, the _heart._ Your soul, essence, whatever… cannot cope with the fact that you are rejecting yourself, so it shuts the brain down in an attempt of stopping it.”

“You haven’t lost me, just yet.”

“Let’s go in, this is not for everybody’s ears.” Bond nodded and followed the kid behind. James noticed that the kid had been living there for a few days. Three laptops were aligned in a row with a mess of cables, a portable printer; something that looked like a pc case, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t. The room was clean, but then again; the maids came every day. He watched the young man’s young body walk elegantly, private tutors, public school; violin or piano, rich. James suddenly felt that every noise was drowned; a white nose generator had been turned on. “Scotch, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“You drink scotch, right?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good, because I would have guessed that you drank something highly obnoxious like dry martinis, or something.” Bond chuckled, wondering if the child was physic of something, because Martinis? That was his favourite alcoholic drink.

“You don’t drink?” James asked, accepting the glass with the amber liquid in it.

“No, never been fond of mind altering substances.”

“I sense a story behind that?”

“Obviously, but this will be a story for another day.” Or never, really. He was not planning on seeing James Bond again, after all… “Following with our little debacle, what if you zoned yourself, on purpose? There is no conflict, you are agreeing as a whole to stop being a sentinel, you will also lose your senses and reactivating them will be, not without a struggle, but as you can see, I can do it as easy as breathing. Maybe you will get to the point where you can stop one of your senses, _without a guide.”_

“All of that will cost me only sleep with you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this is most certainly such a hardship.” Bond snarked with an ironic smile, getting close to the child. He used all his training to restrain himself from sniffing. It was instinctual to the sentinels to sniff, and he had not troubles on doing it with a mundane, but this was a guide, James had to remind himself.  “Now the million dollar question is: how do I do to zone without actually zoning?”

“Bond…” Greyson called the man. “How do you do to control your senses?”

“I visualize and take then to a manageable level.” Bond answered immediately. “Oh.”

“Seriously… as I say to you: people always overcomplicating everything.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just have to dial to zero? Is than even possible? Now, tell me where is the catch? There is always, _ALWAYS_ a catch.”

“There is one more dial nobody ever bothers to know about it and it’s sort of classified and forbidden to talk.”

“There is a sixth dial?”

“Yup.”

“Where is that sixth dial?”

“This is the part where you will have to allow me to show you and maybe turn it off for you the first time. How are you managing your senses without a guide?”

“100 of 100.” Bond blasted. “Do you think I would be like this without a guide otherwise?”

“Then, I’m sure you will be able to turn it off almost instantaneously. Think about it of an initiation of sorts.”

“That only a guide can do?”

“That only a _shaman_ can do.”

“You’re fucking with me; you are too young to be a witch-doctor.”   

“Do you think you can find this information on the internet?” Well, Q obviously could find anything in the electronic world, but that was beyond the point.

“You are going to use your hoodoo in me and then you are going to sacrifice me to your demon of preference and I will do everything willing, aren’t you?” James joked, trying to hold the chuckles back.

“Oh, don’t be such a cry baby. I will just activate your sixth dial, so you can turn off being a sentinel. What you do with it, it’s your issue, but this is your wake-up call. The beginning of your spiritual awareness that it’s nothing like the crap is going through your mind right now. There is no a God that lives in fluffy white clouded heaven or Satan, whom lives in hell.”

“Whatever, I’m an ‘I don’t give a fuck’ in my religious views.” 

“Well, let’s begin shall we?”

“Where do you want me?” Bond asked, leering.

“I’m not good with dirty talking, as you might assume from my diction.”

“Oh it is fine; your voice is wanton enough.” Bond chuckled and the kid blushed, but always reining in his emotions. He had to be the most apathetic Guide he had seen in all his life.

“Just go to the bed and open your shirt.” Greyson told him, beginning to feel the anxiety and the fear of his first time. His mind bombarding him with everything that could go wrong (in the act, he was confident in every other way). What if Bond didn’t like it? What if it hurt? What if he didn’t like it? What if… what if… what if?

“Like this?” James asked after pulling his tie out and opening the buttons of his shirt.

“Yeah.” James Bond was a ridiculous attractive man. It made Greyson feel all hot over. He cleared his throat covertly, feeling his reproductive organs wanting to take over his brain. “This will feel a little bit weird.” Greyson made him know completely dressed; he only took off his shoes before getting on the bed.

James saw how the boy in front of him began to draw something in his skin that looked like sigils and every stroke sent shiver down James’ spine and not of pleasure, he understood now the weird, the kid was talking about. The drawings began from the crown of his head and finished in his pelvis, when those longs, elegant fingers finished tracing his body he was painfully erect, but he forgot about his arousal; because of something shifting in his body.

Greyson had to use all his training, not to show outwardly what he was feeling. That man… _that man…_ James Bond… it was not possible… there was not a Sentinel currently alive that was a match for a Theos Guide, or for himself, really; thought there had to be somebody else with his same particularity; after all, they were at least eight doppelgangers for every living person on earth, maybe some of them; suffered the same he did, killing a sentinel and decided to live their lives miserably, not understanding what was happening to them. But then why, _why_ his body was telling him James Bond was his intended?

“What? Not chanting?” James mocked him, good-naturedly;

“Sorry Agent Bond, I left my wand home, I am afraid.” He answered the man calmly, not displaying any of the chaos that was his mind right now.

“Cheeky bint.” James chuckled amused.

“The dial should be now accessible to you… would you like me to use my guide voice to take you there?” Greyson asked with his heart beating harshly in his body and he guessed Bond thought it was the adrenaline of the moment, because he hadn’t commented.

“No, thank you.” He refused the help, immediately. Greyson winced. Yes, that was why, he didn’t like sentinels and was afraid of them, because that was mostly what wariness came from, _fear._

“Well, go on with it.” Greyson pretended impatience.

Bond closed his eyes, took a deep breath and everything relaxed.

“Oh.” James notified Greyson a little bit startled. “There is a new dial… but it’s odd. I can’t really treat it like a dial… it is more like…”

“Like a switch?”

“Yes.” The Agent answered opening his eyes, looking at the awfully green eyes of the kid.

“If you practice, that dial will change. I knew once a sentinel that his senses where a circuit breaker. He could do basically anything he wanted and with his guide.” Bond barely repressed the growl. “He was able to make a punch in a fabric of this reality and see other realities.” James cocked an eyebrow. “He lived to a hundred and twenty years. His guide died when he was eighty. He never felt her death, because she decided to stay there with him in essence. It was all very maudlin and strange.” Now Bond chuckled, that was more the kid he was used to. “Well, switch it off. I will do with mine and we can have mundane sex and then a headache.”

As Greyson predicted James was able to turn the switch in one try and then threw himself to devour Greyson’s body. He willed to shut everything, just to stop feeling _The Pull._ He thought people were joking when they talked about _The Pull…_ James was going to be so upset when he discovered that he had the One-True-Pairing, he didn’t believe in and he had it in front of him. He closed his eyes and decided to enjoy the night with his Sentinel. What an irony, wasn’t it? He did arrive virgin to his sentinel and he was never going to be able to bond with him.

James peeled his clothes, smelling him; even if it wasn’t the same. He only could make bergamot and sweat. He didn’t get all the nuisances or the pheromones or the sexual arousal that made him stop for a minute.

“Something happened?”

“It’s just weird. I can only smell Earl Grey in you. I just notice I don‘t know if you are scared, if you are lying to me, what kind of pheromones are you exuding.”

“Um~ I’m a little scared. I’m not even speaking. I’m… aroused…”

 _“À la_ mundane…” Bond chuckled, licking the other man’s body. God’s he looked like he was bloody twelve.

“Indeed.”

Bond stopped and went to the bathroom to find lube and a condom, when he returned; Greyson told him:

“It might be a little bit tight. I’m not used to this…” He was not going to tell him, he was a virgin.

“A college boy that doesn’t get drunk or have sex? Preparing yourself to be admitted in a monastery in Tibet?” He mocked, laughing crystalline.

“I don’t feel sexual arousal for mundanes and Guide/Guide sex is such a particular kink…”

“And you can’t have sex with a Sentinel. Fuck. I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me.” He kept putting his foot so far down his throat, he was choking with it.

“It is all well, Agent Bond.”

“James.” He corrected immediately. “You have your legs around my body and I’m about to rim you…” Greyson was going to open his mouth, but then he closed it and reformulated the question.

“Shouldn’t we go and wash first?” It didn’t mean that he was dirty. He was a very clean person, sometimes bordering in OCD, but… rimming… Greyson blushed.

“Do you want to?” James asked not really caring any way. “Sex in the shower is really, _really_ good… especially in a hotel shower…” James smirked and carried the young man in his arms.

“James!” Greyson protested, squirming.

“You are the one that wants water!”  
  
Greyson thought that regardless of his hardened exterior, probably as a consequence of trauma after trauma; James was a very selfless person in the proverbial bed, because they were in the bathroom. Noticing that Greyson was uncomfortable, he guided the younger man’s own fingers, down his gluteus covering them with soap and introduced them, softly and with extreme patience.

In his life he would have imagined that he was going to give his virginity to a stranger that turned out to be his One-True-Sentinel, in a hotel, thousands of miles away from home. But maybe this was just destiny synchronizing everything, because what were the odds of two British people that “worked” for the government, found each other and then everything developed as it did? It made you wonder how the universe worked everything perfectly.

“How does it feel?” James asked softly, nibbling his earlobe. “You have four fingers inside.” Greyson had still two of his fingers inside (he was beginning to feel cramps on that arm, but he was too out of his mind to do anything about it) and James had another two. “Does it feel enough?”

“God, yes, please.” He pleaded strangling the desperate moans Greyson wanted to let out.  
  
“I will be gentle, I promise.”

James was a very strong person. He was able to lift him, aided with the wall, to be so long with his body suspended, of course; and carefully began to slide his penis in his rectum. Greyson jumped a little when James well-formed head fully entered.

“Ok?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“It’s fine…” James mumbled with his eyes closed and pulled out, slowly. Then he pushed again and pulled again, slowly, so slow… pushing, pulling; pushing, pulling. It was driving Greyson over the bend and he only wanted to open his aura again to feel the man taking him, but he had promised that he would keep everything closed and he never broke his promises, if he could avoid it.

“Faster!” He hissed half-panting, frustrated.

“Now, now dear. _Patience.”_ James mocked. Of course the man decided torturing was the way to go.

The preparative thrusts lasted for a few minutes, where James would caress his already hard and leaking penis, stroke his perineum; lick, kiss and bite everything he could get his lips on it, being in the position they were.

“Do you think you can hold it all up?” James asked permission to bury himself down to his balls. Greyson prick twitched and his breath hitched.

“Only one way to find out, right?” He whispered breathless. James pushed as far as he could and Greyson had to swallow and stayed there really still.

“Hurt?”

“N-no.” Greyson panted. “Oh please, move… move.”

James hadn’t allowed him to come. He didn’t know how the hell the man had accomplished that, being his first time and all; he should be done by now; he knew _that_ much, but once the thrust were fast and James’ breath was irregular and everything was a mess of trembling limbs. He lasted _nothing,_ three thrust and he came so hard he thought his sight went white for a millisecond.

“Don’t you dare to stop!” He didn’t know if he screamed that, but he could feel another orgasm building in his body, which he thought men couldn’t have multiple orgasms. James came and in two additional thrust, Greyson reached the orgasm again, this time without ejaculating.

They stood there panting like crazy and it was a good think James was supporting him or he would have fallen to the floor like a string-less puppet. He heard James chuckling in his ears; it was breathy and hot and shot shivers down his spine.    

“You know?” James asked Greyson. Greyson could only choke in own voice. “This is hands down the best sex I have had so far… and that’s weird, because I’m never the one to go for younger people, nor it was particularly special, but I have never come so hard before in my life…” They green-eyed boy chuckled. Greyson wondered if it was because there were destined to each other. He decided to stop and forget about that and kissed James chastely on his right shoulder. “At least give me a proper kiss, for fuck’s sake.” James ordered taking the young man’s mouth and possessing it, playing with his tongue and sucking his lips. James broke the obscene kiss and spoke: “What to go a second time?”

“What is your refractory period?”

“Give me fifteen minutes and I will have you screaming in my bed.” That promise almost sent Greyson refractory period to hell. “Let’s dry and eat, do you want to eat?”

“Not particularly. But if you are hungry, do please don’t cut yourself on my account.”


	2. Meeting with Destiny II

1

James had ordered _spaghetti à la marinière_ and they began to talk of everything and nothing at the same time, while the man ate his food. Greyson was dressed only with James’ shirt, given that his current wardrobe was nothing he felt comfortable with, because he was still on a mission and James was wearing nothing at all. 

“You look good on my shirt.” The blond man smirked. Greyson chuckled putting some classical music in his computer and returning to the bed, where James was eating. 

“I’m sure you say that to everybody.” 

“Only to the really pretty ones.” Greyson blushed and looked aside for a moment. “So, what do you do exactly?” James asked, rolling the pasta with a fork and a spoon.

“I’m doing my Engineer doctorate.” 

“Well, colour me surprise. You are a geek, then?” James smiled with that crooked smile of him that made Greyson stupid. 

“I am not a geek.” He pretended to be offended. 

“So, you are telling me you don’t know Star Wars or Star Trek?”

“I am nerd; get your facts straight, bitch.” James guffawed. “Live long and prosper.” Greyson made the Ta’al greeted with his hand, smiling devilish.

“I bet you can say that on Vulcan.”  

“I’m surprised you know what ‘Vulcan’ is…” Greyson admitted taking his fingers to his lips. He had to admit having a bit of oral fixation. James shrugged. 

“Star Trek is really old and was very popular when it was showed the first time even with the plebs… let’s not talk about how they are always doing reruns.” James began to talk, explaining. “And Star Wars was a boom in its time. I got out of the cinema with a full blown headache, the first time I saw it. I returned like fourteen times, just because of the special effects.” 

That man was getting too perfect for Greyson’s taste. How was he supposed to keep on with his life when he knew he actually had found his twin flame? Like… _literally._ According to life, nothing would be like having your twin flame around. 

“What do you watch?” Greyson asked, trying to get as much personal and intimate information of James Bond, before they had to part ways. 

“I have never had much time for television.” James admitted and Greyson could relate. “I’m mostly non-fiction stuff, like: Schneider’s list or the Last of the Mohican… that sort of things.” 

“Oh… I have to admit, not my favourite genre, but I saw the Schneider’s list as homework for my debate class. I had to defend the Nazis…” 

“I bet that was interesting.”

“The teacher stopped me half through my discourse and took me aside and asked me if I was a guide.”

_“Why?”_

“Well, I was too convincing I guess. The teacher was also a guide and was feeling the shifting in the people’s perceptions in that classroom.” 

“Bloody hell.” James exclaimed surprised. Greyson just shifted uncomfortable. 

“I was banned from debating on the ‘unmoral’ side of the debates.”

“Well, that sucks…” James would have never thought he would be able to feel, in his life; compassion for a guide. They made their bed; they should have to sleep on it. But his partner who was eighteen or nineteen and was already doing his doctorate and hell… how soon had he began his education that he already was in the final tier? He was a bloody infant! 

Greyson just shrugged. 

“What do you do when you are not killing people in the name of England?” Greyson asked rubbing his thighs. 

“Work out mostly… I also drink and have sex with the willing, I guess. You?”

“Code…” _Hack impossible things._ He wanted to answer, but he knew it was better if he didn’t say that. 

“Like websites and the like?” James was not particular versatile with electronics. Sure, he could turn it on, search in Google and manoeuvre (most of the time) Q-Branch’s thingamabobs. He didn’t trust technology. Call him old-fashioned… but he was good as he was. 

“I also develop desktop’s applications and for my bachelor internship: I worked as the junior programmer in a Games developer enterprise.” James whistled impressed. Greyson felt something warn in his chest. His accomplishments where not something to be proud of it, in Q’s family; it was something that was expected of you. He had never seen anybody like James, whom seemed to be awestruck with his curriculum. 

“They let you intern as ‘Junior Programmer’?” James asked very rapt. Normally _internship_ meant you had to prepare everybody’s coffee and deliver a lot of papers, it didn’t matter if you were a doctor. Greyson just shrugged again and James noticed that such feat was not something Greyson registered as a humungous accomplishment. Smart, Pretty and Rich… of course he had to have self-esteem issues. He would bet his watch collection that he was also socially awkward.  “Well that’s pretty damn amazing.” 

“Thank you?” 

“You’re welcome.” 

They spoke as long as James took to eat and then, Greyson served him another glass of scotch… there only were like two fingers of liqueur in that small sample bottle. 

“I could have stood and search it myself. I’m not gimp, you know.” 

“I wanted to.” Greyson told James with simplicity and honesty in his stormy green eyes. And maybe with the boy in front of him it was _that_ simple. 

“I think I promised something to you?” James chuckled when he saw his partner blushing. It was really adorable. James drowned the last of the liqueur, so his mouth wouldn’t be so ‘in-your-face’ because of the food he just ingested. “Do you think I can fuck you with your empathy opened?”

“What?” Greyson asked startled and with his heart wanting to scape by his throat. 

“I want to see what happen when there is a bond to be pushed…” _Ah… an experiment._ Greyson was used to be one of those, living with his brothers. 

“We have no more condoms…” Greyson noticed. They were using the kit the hotel offered. 

“I’m clean.” James told him, shrugging. 

_“I’m virgin.”_ Greyson wanted to answer back, but he didn’t say anything. “Are you sure?”

“I am secret agent, darling. I’m always sure.” 

James watched attentively how the young man relaxed and used his elbows to support his body. His eyes closed and James didn’t felt a damn thing. 

“Well then…” 

“I felt shit of that…”

“You are not a sentinel right now, remember?”

“I don’t like this ‘not a sentinel business’ one bit.” 

“Never said it was pleasant…” 

“Indeed.” He smirked, crawling on the bed, like a panther to his prey. 

The opening kiss was sweet and calm. Greyson gasped with everything about James hitting him like a thunderbolt.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, do ignore me, please. It’s just my empathy getting used to you.” _To my sentinel…_

“Too bad?”

“You just feel deeply, James. Your pleasure and mine hit me, together. It was not unpleasant, just surprising.” _Never felt something like that before…_   

James made him a quivering mess in his arms before positioning in the correct angle and inserted his member, not as slow as the first time, but still slow and paying careful attention to the reaction of his body. 

“Pain?” 

“It is… kinda uncomfortable.”  Greyson admitted, knowing that James wouldn’t like to be lied in this particular case. James used more lube and then pushed until his testicles were touching his gluteus. Q hissed and James began to massage his cock with deft hands. He now moaned torn between the pleasure and the phantom sting of the sudden penetration. 

“Too bad? Sorry, it’s better to get on with it, it will be ok. I promise.”

“I’m not complaining, James.”

“You should. I just shoved my cock up your arse, harshly and the only thing you did was to try and conceal your flinching.” James scolded the young man. 

“I trust you.” And James thought there it was again, that simplicity in their relationship. 

“Can I try to move?” 

“Yeah.” 

Tender as he was, the first thrusts he couldn’t decide if he was groaning, because of the discomfort or the pleasure, he was feeling both (plus James’ pleasure). It was like that for what seemed like an eternity, but then, magically; the pain went numb and everything was hot-white-blinding pleasure, because James might have turn the Sentinel part of his soul, but Greyson was his One-True-Guide and in these few hours he had learned that One-True-Parings held few secrets between each other, if none. There was no need for secrecy, not when you had somebody who could hold your soul in his hand and not be burned.

James did something when trusting and Greyson moaned deeply, with a pleasurable hit of electricity running through his body.  

“Do-do that a-again.” He pleaded, feeling a little bit too whorish for his taste. He was too far gone to care. 

“I-I can tr…” Gasp. “Try.” Pants. “That was yo…” Moan. “Your prosta…” Growl. “Prostate, it’s sort of difficult to hit tha…” James tried to clear his throat. “That spot, unless you have sex several times wi…” Whine.  “With the same person…” He finished speaking with a particular aggressive thrust.

_Thump, thump, thump, thump;_ like war drums, while James’ soul bared his figurative neck, for Greyson to see and feel. A beautiful soul, so bright, with so many difficult challenges: to protect and to be protected, to love and to be hurt for having loved without reserves… to forgive and to cherish. 

He was so lost in the soul of his twin flame, he didn’t even know if he reached the orgasm or when James left his body on a hurry. 

2

James came again so hard, he thought for a moment; lost in the delirium that something had distended and while his semen filled that rather tight hole, he saw, clear as water; a white phoenix with eyes like his partner’s and his own Spirit Guide. The bird was standing majestically on the Black Panther’s back. They looked so right in and on each other, he wanted to turn the switch back on: to know, to understand what it was happening. He had never been too sensitive to the voodoo crap that came with being a sentinel. 

You needed to be open to the Other Reality, _they said_. He was fine standing on solid ground, _thank you very much._ But he wanted: he wanted very much whatever those spirits were offering and he couldn’t see, touch; smell or taste. He strangled a frustrated cry, growing right in his sternum and willed the images to _vanish_.

The fear to the unknown was too much. He left his partner’s body without much ceremony, even if he could had hurt him, quite bad. The switch he turned off: turned back on and he thought he would zone out, but it never came. The pain of his senses rushing back to their places? That he felt, every single second of the burn, but his brain… or heart or whatever it was that his partner explained… never turned it off.     

He looked himself at the mirror. He was sweaty, his short hair was dishevelled, but he was _glowing…_ like a bloody pregnant woman. His eyes were shimmering bright and his heart felt like somebody just gave him _bottled happiness._ It was scaring and it was beautiful and he wanted to run to the other side and stay there and grab the bull by his horns, at the same time… so many ways he could had acted and what did he do? What did the great James Bond, Agent Extraordinary do? Stay there like an idiot, standing in front of the mirror. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed, looking himself in the mirror, but when he exited the room. The kid, because gods… how old was that boy that he had just fucked… _twice?_ Eighteen? Could he dare to say even less? Was lying on the rumpled white sheets, full of cum, hickeys and love bites… his Sentinel wanted to howl to the moon like a fucking werewolf and claim that wanton body, until they were both in pain and the blood flowed, to taste it… to engrave it in his cellular memory, so it stayed there even after his death.

He returned to the bathroom and stayed under the cold water of middle October, meditating. He hadn’t fucking needed to meditate since he was in _Sentinel School,_ but the needs, the fire; the feelings, it overwhelmed him and took him by surprise. It took him two hours, to get his Sentinel side under control and face his partner, which was innocent in all this. He didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him, but he needed to get his shit together and pretend nothing happened. He didn’t want to scare a _kid,_ gods did he really sleep with somebody that was probably ten years younger than himself? A new low, another milestone. _Yey…_ congratulations, to himself.

Exiting the bathroom with a fluffy robe on his body, he saw the young man with his glasses and a laptop on his lap. He had already half-dressed himself with the same pants he had before the debauchery began, dirty as he was and James’ white shirt, which… he was not going to go there _again._ Stormy green and steel blue found each other.

“I’m sorry for passing out on you like that. I admit that I had more than seventy hours without sleeping. Jesus, I don’t think this moment can’t get any more awkward.” He told James chuckling and returning to his computer. 

“You lasted that long after I fuck you the first time? You are actually a cyborg, aren’t you? Tell the truth…” He joked, ignoring everything that happened. The kid didn’t know anything, everything was fine and he just had the most mind-blowing sex he would ever had in his life. He couldn’t keep complaining.  

“Oh, James… I wish.” 

“Don’t be silly, if you were a cyborg I wouldn’t have had sex with you. It’s like fucking a blowjob doll or something.”

“So very crass, Agent Bond.” Greyson snarked, while rolling his eyes good-naturedly. James smiled crookedly and then returned to that bed, because he was going to enjoy that clusterfuck until it crumbled like a sand castle under the rain. “You ok?” He asked, because he was a guide and he was born genetically predisposed to fix everybody’s problems and issues, which maybe James wasn’t so wrong about his kind being a whole bunch of meddlesome old-croons.

“Yeah, why shouldn’t I be?” 

“I am empath…” He remained his Sentinel, sighing dejectedly. 

“I turned the switch back on. It’s… a little disconcerting.” James explained to the younger man. Greyson let him lie, because he didn’t want to stay for that fall out. James didn’t want to have a guide; he would just go and work for MI6; burning and changing guides like he changed his pants.

Greyson closed the laptop with elegant moves, everything about that kid was elegant and swift and compact and flexible… and James’ mind needed to _shut_ the fuck off, before something regrettable happened. He observed keenly, how the kid lowered himself, adopting a horizontal position and hugged him, putting his lithe leg, still marked red where he had grabbed them. James noticed similar marks in the young man’s hips and he wanted to growl again and lick them, for good measure. 

“It’s ok, you know?” James tensed minutely, but without pulling back. “We are never going to see each other again and this will be just a serendipitous occurrence and years in the future, we will be able to get back to this, without tarnishing it with being human.” 

The kid knew and it broke James’ heart, because there was no way that kid was going to accept him, after having badmouthed his kind and then abandoning him harshly post-coitus to fucking meditate the need he felt to hide him away and only keep his beauty and his eyes, all to himself… but he didn’t really want that, did he? He didn’t want to be grounded, to have his wings cut. 

No. He wanted the thrill of the mission, the seduction; the hails of bullets, the gun powder and plot and he couldn’t have it both ways… that would be… disrespectful and _wrong_ to that young man and to himself, because he would arrive to a non-descriptive house in his mind, he would probably call _home_ and then fuck, like tonight; that beautiful body that smelled so _clean_ and _pure,_ like the wind in the mountains: cold and crispy with wisps of bergamot and vanilla and something that cringed akin to ozone and grease, while he would be smelling like Channel, lipstick and alcohol. 

Only thinking about it made him shiver, it was just so wrong; the Sentinel inside him wanted to crawl and die. James got even with the situation, by kissing Greyson with bruising passion, tasting that mouth, recording every nuisance every nook and cranny, making the kid’s body sing, regardless of the deep exhaustion he could now notice (being again a sentinel) clear, in the body. 

He even stayed the night, which would have sent Alec in a frantic search for the paramedics. Well, Alec always has been a Drama-Queen. 

3

To: Mummy.   
_I lost my virginity to a stranger in Stockholm –GH_

It was probably five o’clock in the morning. Greyson had stayed awake, while James slept like a baby in his arms. He eventually decided to confess his crime to his mother. 

_I see… are you drunk? –RH_

_I don’t drink. –GH_

_Do I have to kill somebody? –RH_

_No. He doesn’t even know my age or my name… it was… good, especial; for being complete strangers. –GH_

_As long as you used protection and you liked it. Everything is fine. Now, please; return home and come back to be my little baby –RH_

_I will always be your little baby. –GH_

_Do not tell your brothers… or you father… or especially Sherlock. –RH_

The morning caught Greyson awake and the light came very late at morning. He saw it all, the colours, the changing clouds… it was a beautiful dawn, all pinks and purples. 

James woke up around nine a.m. with owlish blinks.

“Did you sleep at all?” The blond man asked, wincing. 

“Not one single bit.” Greyson admitted, still with his fingers flying on his computer. He felt James move and deposit a chaste kiss on his left temple and then leave the warm bed, walking calmly to the bathroom, completely naked. His gluteus, Greyson noticed; were perfectly toned and his legs were all demarked and looked like they could break concrete in two. He had broad shoulders and his spine was exquisitely outlined. Greyson blinked a little bit startled, he was never the one to check people out. He was a little bit Sapiosexual and Asexual, but he supposed that his sentinel just shoved all his habits out the window.   

By eleven in the morning, James was ready to go. He had tried to get the kid to keep his shirt, he didn’t want to see that shirt anymore in his whole life, but nothing in that hotel room fit him and he didn’t have any more clothes there, so no luck. They walked to the door, his partner still only in pants, displaying all the marks, which got James all hot and bothered. 

“I have heard that is socially frowned to thanks for sex, but thank you. It was perfect.” 

GAH! James was never going to go away if that boy kept talking. So he just kissed him for one last time, dirty and obscene; titillating in the process an old pair crossing the hallway, which only got them a smirk from James, for their troubles. Of course the old pair just giggled a little, bit flustered and hurried their tired steps to the elevator. 

He went without saying goodbye or looking back, fearing he might turn into salt. 

Greyson Holmes stayed sitting on his bed until his phone rang with Mycroft on the other side of the line, giving him new orders with the mission he was currently helping with. As everybody could imagine, he wasn’t _Secret Agent_ material, but for this mission, he was just the perfect bait: extremely _young_ , seemingly naïve and too weak to fight and a Guide, which was like the cherry on top of the ice cream.


	3. Hawaii

4

James was avoiding thugs in Waikiki Beach, Oahu. He had taken so many turns; he was not even sure where he was right now. He took away his tie, his jacket suit; his shirt, he stole a straw hat, abandoned his designer shoes and lost himself in the crowd that was reunited there.

He could hear Afro-Caribbean music playing in the background, sand rushing to and fro, because of people’s feet, the smell fish and shellfish everywhere, people sweating at any turn… but he suddenly forgot everything for a moment, even that he was being persecuted to be killed (and maybe torture him first). He got a whiff of a scent he would recognize in hell itself. It was that scent of bergamot, vanilla and a metallic tinge with a hint of ozone. His eyes zooned on the body that belonged to that particular scent.

Agent James Bond, 007 with license to kill, couldn’t imagine for the life of him, what the fuck was doing that kid there. For what he knew of the kid… damn, he didn’t even ask for a name, he needed to stop calling him ‘kid’ maybe he should go and ask. As he was saying, what he knew of the kid was of his love for technology and dark places.  Nonetheless, there it was; clear as he sky, with an overly big black t-shirt, that James made sweat even more only by looking at it, his long and obscene legs were naked, so he had a bath suit underneath, but it was covered by the t-shirt. He also had flip-flops and he looked tanned (burned, it was the word he was looking).

The kid was just standing there, not moving. It was really strange. Maybe he was checking his phone?

“Where the hell is he!?” One of the thugs screamed, calling the attention of the tourists. James hurried to where the kid was and interlocked their arms, when he finally reached the kid.

“Three men, armed; one sentinel, one three enhanced?” Was the kid’s greeting. Well, now he knew what the kid was doing standing in the middle of the way…

“Uhu… I don’t know about the three enhanced… how the hell do you know that?”

“I’m omnipotent, dear.” The kid offered, fixing his dark shades.

“Can we get out of here?”

“Of course…” His _potential_ guide, the only guide that he had actually wanted to give him that _potential…_ if his name wasn’t James Bond and he wasn’t a 00 Agent and M never found him, after leaving the army without all honours; if his future wife wouldn’t have been killed in the altar; if his parents wouldn’t have died and he only had Kincaid with him… if… you got the idea.

He let the kid guide him… _not that way._ But just to show him the way to wherever the hell that was not that beach. They arrived to a little establishment. The kid took a seat and James followed not so far behind. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” James asked, knowing the kid would understand the question, without him having to explain anything.

“My mother told me I looked like a dead person, apparently you could see through my skin, which is stupid and Sherrinford is an idiot, anyway. So they kicked me and sent me here, as if I wanted to be here in Hawaii, _of all places.”_ Greyson sneered with disgust. “Everything is one big burn in my body, even if I bathe myself in 100FPS sun protector, _regularly_.” He kept complaining, with vehement hand movements.

“Why don’t you stay in the frigging hotel?” The blond agent questioned flabbergasted.

“Mummy knows the hotel manager; he throws me out of the hotel at ten in the morning and doesn’t let me get back to my hotel room until five o’clock.”

“Are you having me on?”

“I am not… I can be anywhere, but my hotel room.”

“Well, that sucks.” James made him know, looking everything; trying to know if there was somebody still following him.

“It’s not that bad. I did manage to go to a Hacker’s conference few days ago and visited a tribe of aborigines, who lives on an island an hour from here in boat. Their shaman was really nice and I learned a lot.

“An engineer who is also a witch-doctor.”  James mocked the kid, endearingly. “How is this my life?”

“Actually I am physicist with a minor in chemistry.”

“Do you want me to tell you what you are?” The blond asked with that crooked smile that still make Greyson, after a full year; a pile of goo, inside. “A brainiac.” The kid huffed offended.

“You say that as if it was something bad, you philistine.” James guffawed; ah… how he missed that night or rather how he missed the kid, but he was not going there.

“Did just call me a philistine?”

“Are you going to lie to my face and tell me, you aren’t?”

The kid… damn, he needed to ask for his name; dared him with a mischievous smirk plastered all over his face. He just wanted to kiss that burned by the sun, face. Now that he noticed, the kid’s cheeks were extremely red and so were his nose and his forehead and everything that could be touched by the sun. James wanted that t-shirt off, to leer a little.

“Before we continue this, because I can’t keep calling you ‘kid’ in my head, what’s your name?” James stopped the amenable banter.

“Oh…” Greyson rubbed his head, blushing. It was true he didn’t tell his sentinel, because he was too chicken shit to do it; his name or that he was fifteen at the time “My name is Greyson.”

“Pretty name, for a pretty face.” James hummed, still looking out for threats. Greyson just wanted to roll his eyes.

“I sent them to a wild chase, James.” The kid… _Greyson_ told him; resting his chin on his hands.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am guide, I know you hate my kind, but please have this present.  The sentinel was the leader, they were part of his Pride so they would follow suit. I, in layman terms; scrambled his brain and now, pretty much everything will smell like you for a few hours, while the real scent, it’s being masked, by me.”

“You can do that?”

“I do a little bit more than vomiting and dying in a stressful environment, James.”

“Crap, you still remember that?” James’ memory jogged by the comment, but he didn’t actually remember he had told that to the kid… _Greyson._

“Eidetic memory…” Greyson confessed to his sentinel.

“And you are never going to let me live that comment down, are you?”

“Unlikely.” Greyson admitted.

“Sorry to interrupt, but do you want to order?” A waitress in shorts and white tank shirt arrived to their table.

“Um~” Greyson stumbled with his words. James sniggered, socially awkward, indeed.

“Do you sell alcohol?” The Agent butted in.

“Yes, of course; you brits?” She asked interested, especially in James. The agent just smirked.

“Scotch.”  

“Whisky, right away!” The waitress beamed at him. “And you, pretty boy?” Greyson just blushed and shrunk in his seat even more.

“Water?”  He asked awkwardly, without looking at the girl.

“Water…” The girl asked like if he suddenly asked for arsenic.  “You sure you don’t want anything stronger?”

“I don’t drink.” Greyson made the waitress know. “And you should ask for identification, before offering alcohol.” The waitress blushed, understanding that he was a minor and went away.

“I did predict you were going to be a little awkward around human beings, but not this bloody awful.”

“Shut up, James.” Greyson growled, annoyed. Of course, the Agent just smirked, unfazed by his words.

In the end, James convinced him to eat in the place, so they ate grilled shellfish with cheap white wine that James passed all the lunch, complaining about along with Greyson refusing to take more than two sips from James’ glass, which caused another bitching, because James said that you didn’t drink wine from a plastic glass, which were the only ones available, because it went with the decoration of the restaurant.

“Can I walk you back to your hotel?” James asked, leering; actually leering. Greyson cleared his throat noting the want in James’ eyes. “I have a few hours to kill, before I can even do anything.”

“In which hotel are you staying?” Greyson asked, cautiously. He couldn’t take James to his hotel. Not with the manager stalking him… and risking his parents finding out.

“Why, isn’t your hotel closer?” James asked confused.

“I need to talk to you.” He told James and grabbed him by his wrist and tugged to let the man know, he wanted him to move, because it was no way he could make that man move, if he didn’t want to.

They arrived to a desolate part of the beach in a rock formation and James stood there, with his hands in his pockets, waiting for the talk, which he didn’t have any idea of what Greyson would like to talk with him. He couldn’t be pregnant… there died his reason for having any reason to _Talk._  

“To be honest and please, I hope you don’t think anything strange about this.”

“Spit it out.” James recommended with his head lopsided.

“I’m sixteen.” He confessed to his sentinel, waiting for the outburst.

“What?”

“I was born sixteen years ago…” He reformulated.

“I heard you the first time.” James made the kid know. Greyson flinched a little bit.

“For what it’s worth, Mummy knows…”

“You told your mother you slept with someone that is twice your age?” James was mortified that Greyson’s mother knew that he had slept with her son.

“She told me that provided I used protection and enjoy it, she didn’t have anything against me, being sexually active; she actually, when I returned home; gave me the _talk_ that included a very embarrassing part of bond feel-up.” James growled from his diaphragm, when the kid confessed him about feeling-up a bond with other sentinels. It made him see red, only thinking Greyson with other Sentinels. “Do you want me to touch you in the arm?” Greyson asked his Sentinel careful, like approaching a rabid, poisonous snake; feeling his distress.

“No. This is absurd. You are free do whatever the hell you want with your life, kid. I don’t have that right, nor does anybody. Do you understand that?”

“James, James…” He tried to calm down the Agent. “I can’t do that with anybody… I am Theos, remember? I don’t think I would kill anybody, but they would certainly pass out. I don’t even know what to do with you… even being my One-True-Paring.” James despaired at the words being uttered out loud. “Oh, don’t be daft, you already knew that…” He scolded harshly. “I’m not sure I can risk doing something like that… what if you end like… _him?”_ Something cold took prey of his body.

“What is your level clearance?” James asked, before continuing with this.

_There is no such thing like ‘clearance level’ for a Holmes._ Greyson wanted to tell James.

“Eight-ish?”

“What?! You have an ‘eight’ level of clearance in the UK?! _With fucking sixteen?!_ ”

“Yes?” Greyson answered with a question, playing nervously with his hair.

“Fine. I am 00 Agent, Greyson. I’m not allowed to bond, I was selected for the program because I can rein on my senses most of the time without the aid of a Guide. If the mission is too hard-core, they will give me a nuisance that it will probably, most likely; be dead by the end of the mission or just plain miserable. You would be a liability; you are a computer boffin, for god’s sake!”

“I just wanted to tell you I was sixteen… and I brought you here, so nobody would judge us. I know you don’t want me like that…”

“Shit, I’m sorry… I’m just…” James growled to the sky, there he was again putting his foot in his mouth.

“James…” Greyson soothed him, without using his witchy powers; touching his naked arm, not really knowing how to position the hand, not used to human contact. So he just stopped. “It’s fine.”

“I do like you. I mean, I love you if I compare you to others…” He didn’t spoke of the appellative he was going to use, out of respect to Greyson.

“Again, you are misrepresenting the meaning of my words, James. I want you too. I would love to have mundane sex with you. I just thought you needed to know I’m underage.”

“So you don’t want to go to your hotel, because?”

“Because Mummy is all-time friends with the manager, he stalks me.” Bond frowned, a little bit flabbergasted about Greyson’s words.  “James, I’m underage… remember? He is my chaperon… he can distort the truth, if he sees us together; going to my room. I would like not to create too much ruckus, especially with our ‘encounters…’” He used instead of ‘relationship’. “Seems to be destined to be quite _volatiles._ ” Or just when the universe felt they needed to find each other and everything just shifted to make it happen. “I don’t want to give people reason to bring hell down on us… just because they cannot mind their own business.”

“You are a very logical person. It puts me out a little…”

“Because I am guide? Look James. I’m sorry you have had so many shitty guides in your life, but, yeah… a lot of guides just like to just defer to its sentinel and submit and whine, because it’s easier, but not every guide is like that. Hell I would like to see my brother telling his guide to sit and not to talk; she will geld him and shove his balls down to his throat.” Greyson told James, thinking of Anthea (or whatever the hell was her name, they usually simply knew her by Anthea). She was also a 00 Agent and a guide, but she found Mycroft and decided to be his personal bodyguard and Guide, instead of going and protect England, like her fellow-agents. 

“Two of millions! Every guide I have known bonded or not… they just are this whining little things that sometimes I just want to wring their necks, so I can have my coherency back.”

“Why are we talking about this when you know I can’t bond with anybody and you don’t want a bond with anybody?  Can’t we just better go to your hotel, so you can fuck me silly?” Greyson wanted to end that conversation and not to have it again in his life.  

“I… fine…” James admitted defeat.

“It pains you, letting me have the last word, doesn’t it?”

“We need lube and condoms…” The blond man decided grabbing now Greyson’s wrist and pulling his handled, searching for a chemist. 

“Can we have those one that taste like chocolate or cherry?” He was curious… _shut up._  
  
“I don’t like them much…” James admitted.

“I wanted them for myself…”

A sudden rush of arousal coursed through Greyson’s body and it came from James.

“Pervert.” The young man accused him.

5

James was staying in a lavish hotel, with a sight to the beach. Before utilizing the card key that would allow them to enter his hotel room, he had switched the Sentinel switch off. He had been practicing and kept the knowledge to himself. He didn’t even tell about it to his best friend and brother in arms, but then he would need to explain Greyson and actually bring Alec to a shaman or to Greyson himself and… not worth the trouble. Amazing and amusing, was everybody’s flabbergasted look on their faces, when he told them; trying to find another way in to the mission, other than _fucking the Guide…_ thathe could do it without and get away with it.

M, bless her; not believing him, told him to pick a guide and sleep with said guide. He decided to sleep with a pretty girl in administration, after explaining the situation… he didn’t want any misunderstanding or misconceptions. The girl confirmed that she couldn’t even feel that Bond was a Sentinel during intercourse.

The sex had been mediocre to be kind about it, and she had tried to get overly clingy with him in the afterglow; which shot Bond out of that hotel bed as quick as he could, but at least his mark was a luscious woman with flowing black hair and red lipstick that knew what she was doing in bed and her sentinel wasn’t the best sentinel in the world, normally ignoring her, unless he needed it to control his senses. A few words, a couple of glasses of champagne and blatant flirting; he had her all wet and moaning for him, giving away precious intel of her sentinel and most especially: his contractor, which was the final mark.

Now he was wrapping his arms around Greyson’s small frame, touching a sixteen years old, whom was probably virgin, before that night in Stockholm with his calloused hands, so full of blood. Wasn’t this what he didn’t want to do? To go fucking and killing, while traipsing the world and then coming back to the kid? God, he was such a sick fuck. He shoved every single twinge of guilt and remorse to the back of his head and pounded Greyson’s mouth.

“Wait! My empathy!”

“Let it.” James dismissed, still kissing him. In three minutes he had shot Greyson’s perfect posture and diction down to hell. He took the kid’s member with his mouth and went down until the testicles. Greyson grasped.

James nibbled, caressed; sucked, teased and in five minutes, at most, he was licking the cum off Greyson’s prick. James didn’t even bother picking the condoms, but he knew that Greyson was as cleans as somebody, with the level of social retardation the kid possessed; could be.

“Want me to return the favour?” Greyson asked when he found his voice again.

“Do you want to?” James asked playing with the skin around the genitals.

“You will find out that it is very hard to get me to do anything I don’t want to.”

“Do you even know what to do?”

“James. I have an IQ of one hundred and ninety, I can figure out how to give you a blow job…” He huffed snobbish.

“Excuse Mr Genius.”

Greyson picked the condoms, which were berries flavoured. He opened one with clumsy hands and broke it, like they taught you in those rallies of sexual safety in school and tasted it before doing anything else with it, in case he didn’t like the flavour; according to James’ distaste for them.

“It’s not that bad.” Actually the flavour was really hit on spot. He had grabbed one that smelled and tasted like blueberries. 

“Say that again when you become a fucking sentinel.” James sulked.

“Oh, right… that might cause some troubles.” Greyson admitted, rolling the latex sheath on James penis. James honouring his Sentinel’s genes just growled. “I apologize for anything my empathy does to you.”

“You are forgiven; just don’t take your hands off my cock.”

“Oh~ um~ ok.”                 

“If you are going to take it to your mouth, don’t force it. You puke on me; I will be very annoyed.” James threatened Greyson. “And, this is your first time doing this?” The kid nodded. “Don’t use your teeth.” James still remembered when he was still green and he was going to receive his first blow job from a girl, whom was as green as he was and he didn’t even bother asking for her name… those teeth mark still hurt to the current day and age.

“Not attempt to deep-throat or teeth. I can do that.” Greyson accepted, nodding; not offended. “Should I mention I have no gag reflex whatsoever?” He made his sentinel know. That made James ten times harder. Bloody hell that was getting embarrassing, he was acting like a fucking teenager. “But if you rather I just…”

“Do whatever you want, you minx! Just be careful! I’m very attached to my cock.”

True to his word, Greyson didn’t have a gag-reflex and was able to take James’ whole length in one sweep, which was more than James could stand and just grabbed the kid, turned him on the bed and fucked him, until they both came without any parsimony.

It was hot as hell, but Greyson had to admit it did hurt a little bit more than he would have liked. He rubbed his hole, discretely; after James exited it. He enjoyed it as he never thought he would have liked _rough sex_ and didn’t want James making a big deal out of it.

James fell on Greyson’s body, boneless as he was; hitting him with his full weigh.

“James, I can’t breathe.” The kid made him know, fighting for air. James growled and moved to the other side of the bed, the moment Greyson complained about the weight.

“You ok?” James grunted with his face on the pillow.

“A little bit sore, but it’s fine.”

“Let me see.”

“No. It’s fine, really.” Greyson tried to stop James, but there was no way he could make James do anything; unless he used his empathy and god only knew what the hell James would do to him if he ever decided to use his empathy against  the man. 

“It’s just bit irritated.” James diagnosed, rubbing the hole softly with his fingers and then, licked it up, making Greyson protest.

“James!”

His protest only made James smirk and leave his arse alone. They didn’t cuddle. James lay on one side of the bed and Greyson didn’t have the bullocks to move from where he was, so he just stayed there, a little bit tense. Now what?

Fifteen minutes approximately into the afterglow. James was caressing Greyson’s flat stomach, which made Greyson relax a little more; noticing he could count most of the ribs and decided to speak again.

“How good are you really with computers?” James asked without shifting or stopping the movement of his hand. “You told me about a hacker’s conference?”

“What do you want me to do?” Greyson answered, sleepy.

“I have some encrypted data and I want to know what it says…” He explained, nibbling Greyson’s ear.   

“Find me a computer; I’ll see what I can do.”

“You are here without a computer?” James asked surprised.

“Don’t be silly, James. But my laptop only has a code editor, right now.”

“A virus?”

“A prototype, which was in the suitcase I decided to pack. Mummy didn’t want me to bring a computer so I had to smuggle one.” James looked at him like a crazy person, but Greyson ignored him. “Is that a case weapon in there?” Greyson asked really curious, when his sight crossed with a grey big case.

“It’s a sniper rifle.” James answered his partner. “It’s an AS50 and a tripod.”

“Oh god, can I see it?”

“What?” The blond man sputtered, by Greyson’s sudden enthusiasm.

“Daddy owns a L115A3 AWM.” He began to ramble, shooting himself out of the bed; going for the sniper case. “It is very good, but it’s not as sleek in design as the AS50, and I am whore for well-designed things.” James didn’t have time to stop Greyson from pulling the rifle and he was already poking at it, when he arrived to the floor.

“Um~ the balance is a bit off.” Greyson pointed out, by merely looking at it.

“How do you know that?” He hadn’t used it, just yet; for that reason. 

“I am a physicist, James. A very violent one, I design bombs in my free time.” The kid let him know, while prodding the rifle. “Daddy lives reminding me that having uranium in the house is a felony, it doesn’t matter what Sherlock says; after we almost blow the left wing of the manor.”  James was just with his mouth hanging open, figuratively, of course. He was a man, and men didn’t gape. “This is of British manufacture, isn’t it?” James nodded, Greyson nodded back. “If you find me a few screwdrivers, I can calibrate the riffle, for you.”

They didn’t have more sex that day. They just left the hotel to buy some tools and other necessities, so Greyson could modify the rifle; all under the sceptic watch of James. Greyson took the rifle apart and in three hours he put it back together, with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“This should hold nicely.” He said, giving the rifle back to James. “Now I will calibrate the bullets.”

“You calibrate bullets?”

“You don’t?” Greyson asked confused. James just rolled his eyes and let the kid do whatever he wanted, while he checked that the riffle was in a semi-working state. 

When James Bond shot the killer bullet that would end the mission and take him back to England; it went so flawlessly, it hit the target with millimetres of his intended point, even when the wind decided to change that moment, seemingly screwing the shot. It left him flabbergasted; he didn’t know what the bloody hell Greyson did to that rifle, but he was not going to give it back to MI6, it was now his. He wondered if the next time he saw Greyson, he could ply him to modify his gun. He couldn’t believe he was actually wishing he would find the young man again. It wouldn’t be that difficult, if the craving turned unbearable; to find Greyson. He knew enough: Greyson, sixteen; green eyes; rich parents, with an IQ of 190; who lived in somewhere in Great Britain. He was pretty sure there was just _one_ person in the whole _UK_ with that combination.

TBC


	4. Russia (Part I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this f$%& story all planned out and you would think that I would be able to write it without issues... well! WRONG! For some stupid reason the words don't want to come out, but it will flow, eventually *eyes on fire* you just will need to be awfully patient with me and my muses. 
> 
> My apologies, Liuny.

6

Greyson had been working with a shady organization in mother frozen Narnia for a few months now. He had left rainy England to go to fucking Russia in winter, he was going to kill Mycroft the next time he saw him. Sherlock was very happy mocking him, enjoying his pain and telling him: “I told you so.”

The organization where Greyson was working was a weapon manufacturer that created smart weapons, which meant he could do what he did best: _code;_ while feeding information to England. It was kinda complicated, the situation. England and the manufacturer were working together, but England didn’t trust it one bit, so they sent a bunch of people and told the manufacturer, one of them was going to be overseeing things. Of course, nobody would expect for the bespectacled boffin to be the one whom was actually assuring everything was in _working order._

It was two in the morning and Greyson was the only one working in that room. He much rather work alone, when there was nobody there to pay attention that he actually could control computers without using a mouse or a keyboard. So he was just watching the screen like an idiot, while lines of information scrolled down, vertiginously fast.

He jumped when the door opened and the lights turned on. He turned back with the heart on his throat and noticed two people had entered the room: his boss and… he would be damned, James Bond.

“Q, do you ever sleep?” His boss, which was a Sentinel and a femme fatale, with wavy, luscious hair; lips always painted in burgundy colours and the tendency to walk in pointy and shining heels, asked with an arched eyebrow.

“I slept yesterday?” Greyson answered unsure of what was the correct answer. The viper just rolled her almond shaped eyes and turned her sight to James Bond.

“I apologize for the overzealous boffin.”

“It’s fine.” Bond dismissed with careless hand movements.

“James, Q. Q, James Bond. He is a potential buyer and I was going to fuck him and you are here, impeding me to do so.”

_Awkward…_

James just wanted to laugh because of the absurdity of the situation, but he just stayed there; deadpanned, watching his mark and _Q,_ in regular intervals.

“Ergh~ I will be leaving this room in the next five seconds?” He offered, blacking out the computer.

“Um~ you know what? I have a soft spot for jailbait, have you had a real woman just yet?” He turned to James. “Tell me Mr Bond… would you like such a delectable piece of meat?” 

James took a look at Greyson or _Q,_ as he was currently being addressed. He was wearing a thick long-sleeved and turtle neck, medium grey shirt, with thermal black trousers and a very intricate pair of boots that were thigh-high. He looked very androgynous dressed like that and… was he even skinnier than the last time they saw each other?

“I see you like him.” James’ mark interrupted his assessment of Greyson.

“He is very pretty.” He answered lamely.

“Indeed. And pretty people shouldn’t be left alone like that… terribly things happen to people like you, dear.”

“I will take that into consideration. I would like to… um~ go now.”

“Why… never fucked an alpha sentinel before? Don’t worry dear; you wouldn’t even know what do with your dick. Luckily for you I own a strap-on.” She kept taunting. It was most entertaining when Q choked in his own drool. “What do you say about a threesome, Mr Bond?” 

Q wanted to take offence when James seemed to be thinking about it.

James thought it would be an spectacular idea, except the woman was a fucking sentinel and the thought of another sentinel putting his hands on Greyson, sent him into a murderous rage, but a threesome with Greyson was definitively on his bucket list, maybe with another guide… apparently the kid was into that sort of thing.

“I don’t want to have a threesome, ma’am. In most countries this would be called sexual harassment and if you force me to this, it’s rape…”

“Don’t be silly, you are offering yourself to everybody with those pants and black thigh-high boots. What is your standing in cross-dressing, Q? I would love to see you in lace and silk.” Arousal attacked him from every corner. Fucking James Bond, the pervert… and he wasn’t even going to deign to talk about his boss. 

“I cannot have sex with you…” Q put his feet down, tensely.

“No? Why?” The woman snorted delicately, very amused.

“I’m actually a guide.” He had to confess to protect himself. Most Sentinels, even the ones that decided their life views didn’t coincide with the side of the _law,_ which was most of the time; the law was actually subjective, would not be willing to touch a guide without their whole and clear consent.

“My, what an unexpected surprise…” She smirked darkly and something dark and cold took prey of Q’s body. “Had I been forced to take a crack shot, I would have said you were a sentinel. A very piss poor one, of course, but this explains most of your little quirks.”  

“Yes, you are not the first person to say that…” Q had to admit. All his brothers had been born Sentinels and he was not raised to develop that subservient _undertone_ every guide seemed to exude naturally. It was not encouraged for him to show such blatant signs of weakness or emotions.

“I already have a guide, stupid little things, to be honest…” The woman said cruelly and Greyson thought cynically: she and James would be very happy together… until James killed her, of course. “Would you like to belong to my pride?”

“I have a sentinel!” Q rushed, when he felt and saw murder in James’ eyes, the blond agent just stood still and stopped his hands from killing the woman. She was still needed. It was a good thing that her attention was solely fixed in Q’s, or things would have gotten ugly, quickly.

“Oh? And your Sentinel lets you being miles away from home?” She asked narrowing her eyes. She hated her guide, because she felt trapped; always getting back to him, because of her senses or because her Sentinel’s side was always pushing her to go and make sure he was fine and protected. She now could squash those feelings quite easily, so she now mostly just called him; being a crime lord and all, when her senses were acting up so horribly: the headache would feel like trying to crack her head in two.

“He has very good control over his senses, so we are… waiting…” He lied, using subtly his empathy to push her to believe that lie.

“Now, now… finder keepers.” She smiled walking to get closer. “I bet you have never been taken by a sentinel.” She was right; Bond and he, only had mundane sex. “I would have you on your knees, weak and moaning; asking for more.” She promised, showing she was quite the dominatrix. Q was beginning to feel emotionally distraught which was never good for a guide.

“Do you really want to keep doing this?” Q asked the woman, showing her his tattoo as a last resort. Nobody was that suicidal.

“You are the Theos guide?” She asked surprised taking one step back. Greyson sighed relieved, almost unperceptively. “I have heard about you. You killed your genetic matched Sentinel after he tried to bond with you.” Q had to make his best not to clench his teeth after the reminder. “Um~ I thought you would be older…”

“Nobody gets around with what I am: I thought you would be older, bigger; a legend, _a woman…”_   Greyson complained, getting his annoyance in cheek. It was always the same, he shouldn’t be so affected.

“Be my guest, little ‘alpha and omega’ guide.” She mocked him, letting him go; showing him the way with her hands.

Greyson walked away with hasty steps and decided that locking himself in his assigned room would be the best, until he was surrounded by his bodyguards, again. He had two, even if they wouldn’t admit it. He didn’t understand, Mycroft; his older brother knew he wasn’t an idiot.

7

James had finished his _business_ with his mark and when he was alone again in those halls, it was a surprise for him that Greyson’s was still in the complex. He decided to follow the scent, not knowing what for…

So far, it didn’t mattered how much he walked; nothing was locked, so he still was in a ‘public area’. In ten minutes he arrived to what looked like a dormitory, if you could call it that. All the doors were numbered and ones were opened and clearly empty. They rooms were approximately five meters squares with one bed, a night table, a desk and a door that probably lead to a bathroom.  The door 331 was the lucky door, where he knew he would find Greyson.

He stayed there, in front of the door; thinking what to do, what he wanted or would say to the kid. It was winter again, so the kid was now seventeen. His useless thoughts…

It startled him momentarily when the door opened, taking all his decisions away from him.

“What can I do for you, Agent?” Q greeted coldly, but painfully polite. He was still dressed in the same clothes sans the strange boots and his feet were covered by thick woollen socks.

“Q?” James spoke unsure of the situation. “Can I come in?”

“I think the answer here is: should you?”

James shrugged, it was unimportant. His target already knew Q and himself were made acquaintance by _her_ and she also knew he was interested in the boy, so; it wouldn’t affect his mission if he was suddenly seen in Q’s room or bunker really, not much of a room those four walls without windows. Greyson just turned back, keeping his deadpanned expression and let the door open and returned to his desk, where three laptops laid open and were interconnected with each other.

“What are you doing here?” James asked in a low voice, close to Greyson’s left ear. Greyson rejected the _barely there_ touch.

“I can feel her on you. Go away.” Greyson knew this was inevitable. James’ work forced him to fuck or kill whoever was necessary to complete the mission, but James just put his cock in that woman’s vagina and fucked her until she was crying his name, probably scratched his back and left her marks, too. Their presence were so interlaced… if Greyson was blind and deaf, he wouldn’t know if he was talking to James Bond or to his current boss.

“Fine, have it your way.” James spoke a little bit harshly. The kid had all the rights to act like this, but that didn’t make it any easier, when in his mind; Greyson was _his_ and thus: he didn’t have any rights to refuse his touch like that. The rejection made James quite unreasonable and a tad bit mad. “What are you doing here? I am talking to you as a Double O agent, _Q._ I need to know if I have to consider you in my mission.”

“That very much depends on your mission…” Q began to explain with a monotone voice that was sending the blond to an even deeper rage. “I am just here ensuring they don’t do anything funny… like sending us a gun that will explode on our faces when we step on British soil.”

James grabbed the backrest of the spinning chair and forced the kid to look at him. Greyson whom didn’t know how long he had passed without eating or without a real night of sleep, the harsh spin; left him feeling like if he suddenly didn’t have a ground below. He willed himself to forgone the nauseating feelings currently accosting his body.

Whatever was crossing James’ mind: didn’t bode well for him. He needed to stay as alert as he could with his mind screaming BEWARE! DANGER! 

“Why are you so irremediably mad?” The kid pleaded with tired voice. “You are the one who traipse the world, killing and fucking your way around. I’m not criticizing, this was irremediable; I just don’t want you to touch me when I cannot make difference of the woman that would torture me, had she the power to do it; from the man who is supposed to have an unbreakable tether with my soul.”

James took a step back. He hated to have a Guide. It was such a consuming feeling, having Greyson around. He was always alert, always worrying; always trying to possess. Humans were not meant to be possessed, but Sentinels’ brains had other ideas. That was the liability he complained to the kid the first time they shared a cab. For so many years he had been trying to avoid _it_ and now the universe was trying to shove it down his throat; every single time _it_ could.

“If you are so kind of closing the door when you leave; I have work to do.” Greyson, always patient Greyson; was just letting him go, like if he didn’t have anything to say in James life… but he was right, it didn’t matter; it was their lives and they couldn’t do anything to change it.

James kissed his guide con bruising force and it broke his heart: Greyson’s breath hitched, his pupils dilated and he began to smell of fear. 007 stormed out of the room and went directly to a whore house. One that had skinny people with ridiculous mops of hair… with a lot of luck; he would find someone that smelled like vanilla.

Greyson just stayed there with his head on the backrest and his palms on his eyes, trying to contain the tears, he had been trained all his life not to shed. _Noblesse Oblige,_ after all. He had been a model for years and he would be model to his last breath.

8

Q was reunited with his boss, James Bond and three other hackers that he knew very well in the digital word: Bishop, K_w*zard and SKulL-He4D.

“You’re kidding me, he’s _Q?”_ Bishop asked, still not believing the posh baby in front of his eyes was the best hacker in the world. Known to have brought down all the USA spying network for twenty four hours and when the Americans were able to reinstate their network, they never found out anything, but the letter “Q”, which was almost a social and cultural convention to leave your mark on your hack and not because ego, but because it was the only way to ensure, the right people could find you, if needed it.

“He is no Q.” SKulL-He4D whom was a twenty-something-girl with piercings and tattoos all over her body snorted. “I worked with him, once.”  

Q wasn’t even paying attention to them, he just kept typing to the speed of light, under the straining watch of Alpha Sentinel Vladlena Averyanov and _his_ own Alpha Sentinel James Bond. Q was making a bet, in his head; on how much time would it take for him to crack under the pressure. His calculations were not running to his favour.

“Stop talking, you pieces of trash!” The Woman growled and the hackers just returned scared to their workstations.

“My dear, are you sure scaring the boffins is the way to go?”

“Do you have a better idea, Mr Bond? Whips? Candle wax?”

_“How about letting them do their goddamn job?”_ James growled inside his mind, annoyed with the situation.  “They’re kids; Vladlena… cut them some slack.”

“Honestly! The only one I thought was going to be an irremediable nuisance and a waste of space is the only one doing something! Why did this happen?! You promised nothing could penetrate the systems.”

“We-well…” SKulL-He4D stuttered when The Woman asked for an explanation.

“I wasn’t here for the induction, but they are using the polymorphic engines I designed a few years ago… somebody gave the code up, you have a traitor on your mist.” Q answered with steady voice without stop typing like a maniac. 

“How sure are you of this, my little Theos?” The Woman asked Q, grabbing him sensually by his neck and tilting his chin up. James never knew he had self-control right up to that moment. M would be impressed that he had not killed anybody just yet.

“They are using the legal codes… are you telling me you gave them to somebody?”

“Don’t play coy with me, little Q.” Vladlena growled, but James grabbed the offending arm, before it could harm his guide.

“Remember the _Theos_ thing?” James reminded his mark.

“Your guide status will not protect you forever, little Q.” The woman warned him, menacingly…

Bishop had never felt like that. He needed to do something to show deference to that woman, before he could suffer the consequences; the worst was that he wasn’t a full sentinel, he just had sight and hearing enhanced, but that Dragon of a Woman was too much for his brain. Bishop had to give it to _Q,_ if the posh boy was actually the legendary Q. His bollocks were _immense,_ other guides would, by now; be baring their necks in sign of submission, but _Q_ was just paying attention to the computer and had the gall of give The Woman the lip.

“Actually, yes it will... no sentinel or mundane will risk it and neither will you.” He shot down the threat immediately. The other three hackers were so tense and twitchy they were considering going on their knees, and beg for forgiveness.

“Q, do yourself a favour and shut up.” James growled at Greyson, before Vladlena lost her patience and all his plans were shot to hell.

“Why. Of course, my apologies… what was I thinking?” The Guide asked ironically.

“Do try to contain the snark, my pet… especially when you are being so useless right now.” The Woman warned him. Theos or not, she was sure she could device something to punish him. No food seemed like a good thing to begin with.

“Well I was not the one want whom sold the codes. I try as a rule: not to shoot myself on the foot.” Q snarled, doing his best to keep his mood in check.

“And neither would we.” SKulL-He4D quickly defended herself and her companions, before the guilt could be shifted.

“You better be or you would have desired not to even have thought to want to be born.”

The tattooed girl gulped and returned to her computer. The room fell into silence for approximately ten minutes when Q broke said silence:

“Ah… there you are…” Q mumbled (but for the sentinels he might as well just screamed) half pleased, half annoyed.

“I don’t see anything.” Bishop tried to catch up with Q, who was coding at vertiginous speeds.

“It’s that bitch of Roksana.” Q spoke now for everybody. James was surprised the kid knew how to curse.

“The government’s dog?” K_w*zard asked a little bit shocked.

“The same Russians are doing this?” SKulL-He4D was suddenly really confused.

“Can you do something about it?” The Woman asked Q without beating around the bush, with her hand on the backrest of Q’s seat, but without trying to do anything to the boy; just to be able to watch the monitor better and trying to understand the information that rolled down and down like a storm. It was like a battle made of letters and numbers.

“He is already doing it.” Bishop said startled, taking his hands out of the keyboard, when his computer began to be taken over by something different than Roksana.

“Why are you not working?!” The Woman scolded the other hackers.

“They can’t. They are just nuisances and I need the capacity of their computers.” Q made The Woman know. “If you are quick enough, I will have an address in five minutes.”

In four minutes and thirteen seconds Q was delivering an address to his boss and freezing all the transferals made by the attacking systems. The three other hackers were just reading over Q’s shoulders, amazed and understanding only a very small portion of what the boy was doing.

Eventually only Greyson and James stayed in the main server room. The other three hackers were needed to pick up the clusterfuck and the woman went personally to see if they could eliminate the threat with her Pride the moment Q retrieved the address.

James had been standing, leaning lazily on the wall; watching his potential Guide work. It was amazing. For a moment he thought the kid was going to have an erection… because Greyson’s body certainly wanted to. It was that unmistakeable musky scent that drove the Sentinels’ crazy when coming from Guides. When everything finished and they were alone in the room, Greyson’s smile was so wicked and wide, it threatened to break his face. His eyes were gleaming behind his glasses and he was breathing like if the adrenaline was shooting through his blood at vertiginous speed.

“You live for this, don’t you?” James asked and Greyson jumped startled turning back, noticing his Sentinel was still in the room.

“Well, we all have something that makes our blood sings…”

“Why _Q?”_

_“X_ was already taken.” _Q_ half-answered standing up from his chair and walking towards the door, but he stopped his way and caressed James’ dressed chest; before completely exiting the server room.

James grabbed the hand and licked Q’s index finger, which moments ago had been maniacally hitting keys, over keys. Greyson walked until their bodies were almost touching and then whispered in James’ left ear:

“Are you, in all conscience; going to be so unabashed and fuck me while you are still with _her?_ When yesterday she was probably the one being unmade by your hands and your lips?” Greyson accused him touching, but not really. James had to bit his lips to not say anything. “I’m not that easy.” He whispered even softer. A pleasurable shiver went through James’ body. “I won’t be the abnegate wife that waits in penitence, James. Never. Forget. That…” And with those words, Greyson licked James’ lips once and left him alone in the half-lighted room.

**TBC**


	5. Russia (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *CRIES TEARS OF HAPPINESS* FINALLY! I CAN'T BELIEVE I FINALLY WAS ABLE TO GET OUT OF RUSSIA! YEY! *Pops several champagne poppers* Rushed and not what I wanted! But I managed it! I don't care! I finally can move on to another chapter! *GLORY TO THE WORLD! HALLELUJAH! HALLELUJAH!* But that's ok, because I only have ghost readers! So never you mind. 
> 
> The Chapter is not BETAED or re-read, because I'll probably regret it and never publish again. God I had so many ideas for this chapter that just got butchered... even so... don't be party pooper if you are going to review... I LOVE YOU ANYWAY!
> 
> L.

9

James had received a phone call. It was Vladlena telling him that she needed to see him as soon as possible. He had been enjoying the pity fuck he had with a prostitute that had Greyson’s chocolate brown hair and his bony body, but duty called, so he dressed himself and kissed that pout, because the woman could pout and went away to speak with his mark.

Arriving to the complex, he was guided by one of the members of Vladlena’s Pride to where the woman was.

“I hope this is good.” James told the woman, when he saw her.  
  
“Let’s cut the crap, then. I need your help to bring down Zinchenko, have you ever heard of him?” James narrowed his eyes when Vladlena mentioned that Crime Ring Lord. England had been trying to catch him for the last five years and nothing. He didn’t like that he gave some sign of life right now. “He was the one doing this clusterfuck, when we arrived to the address that little Theos gave us. Roksana was there; she had been thoroughly tortured and was forced to hack us at gun point.” 

“What did you do to the girl?” James asked fearing the worst.

“She is a government dog, James. I gave her back to her owners, what else? She won’t be of use to anybody, for a long time. Throughout job that bastard of Zinchenko did.”

“What are you planning?”

“C’mon Jimmy, don’t play stupid with me. I know you know how to shot a gun and hit on target and know at least four martial disciplines.”

“You’re accusing me of something, dear?” James asked with his voice full of honey.

“Lots, but that’s not here not now, isn’t it?” She answered in kind. “We need bait.”

“That man doesn’t want anything.” The blond agent made her know, taking a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Vladlena.

“That’s where you are wrong. You don’t know that little Theos Guide at all, darling, do you?” The woman drawled, smirking with her dark lips. “He is _the_ most sought after hacker in the world. One word and he can crash all of Zinchenko’s systems.” James liked that plan, less and less; with every passing second. “He won’t compromise his identity, Q or his legal name. I know that…” She was not an idiot. “But we can use another identity and order him to hack from there…”

“No.” James wasn’t even going to pretend to think about it. He refused to use Q in any way or capacity. Especially in one that could get him killed. He was itching to kill and main the one that kept sending his guide to such dangerous situations being so young.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said: _no.”_ James refused unequivocal.

“It’s not like he can touch the pup, Bond.” She knew that Bond had some annoying morals and that using somebody that was still so young and seemingly unprepared might strike a chord in the man’s nerves, but such an opportunity… it would be preposterous not to take it.

“I said no and I won’t change my mind.”

“It seems like I’m missing something here.” Vladlena tried to pry information from the other Alpha Sentinel.

“You are missing a damn thing and if you want bait, use one of the other hackers… one that won’t bring the Sentinels and Guides Centre knocking on our doors!” He hissed, finding the hook point in his argument.

“Zinchenko is untouchable, James. Only something short of Q will bring him out. Besides, the bastard is a Sentinel, an active one… he touches one hair of that messy head and it will burn him like scorching coal.”

“I said no. Are you deaf? You borrowed him from the British, didn’t you?”

“Actually, no. They sent him along a bunch of spies to oversee we don’t double cross them. It was a surprise when that skinny boy came out as one of the senior programmers and then as the _Theos Guide_. I always thought it was a load of bull crap, but everybody that had put foot in the centre knows what that tattoo represents.” She made idle conversation. “We need something that will bring him down completely, but for the life of me I have no idea what…”

“And there is where you want me?”

“Obviously… I could kill him myself, of course; no trouble… but then I would have to go and report to the Alpha Prime Sentinel of Fucking Russia and trust me, I hate the bastard.”

“And what do you want me to do? That _I_ go and talk to him?”

“You are from the UK, _da?”_

“I think my accent might give me away.”

“Accents can be faked; you just have that ‘Queen and Country’ gig going on for you.”

“And the background check doesn’t have anything to do with it, does it?”

“Well, one can never be too preventive.”

“Or paranoid.”

“Well, returning to the subject at hand: let’s say a fight breaks between you and Zinchenko and he dies… oops!” Vladlena suggested with a cute face of faked surprise.

“I kill him; I will have to take his pride. I don’t do that shtick.”

“I want his Pride. Isn’t it obvious, James? I can’t kill him, because the damn Alpha Prime of Russia is a bloody nuisance, so we need to keep the peace. Who is the Alpha Prime of England?”

“There is no Alpha Prime for Great Britain. The closest Alpha Prime for Great Britain’s Sentinels to defer to is Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II as the Alpha Prime of the Commonwealth. Scotland and Wales do have their Alpha Primes, but if they wouldn’t; they would refer to England’s tier first, so…”

“That’s weird.” 

“There had been some ‘stand-ins’ trying to maintain the balance, mostly it falls to the Holmes Family, but nobody stays that long, because _they aren’t_ the real Alpha Prime.”

“Do you think the Queen is going to care? Furthermore, it will be a win-win, one less terrorist. You can just sign an addendum, giving me the power and everybody happy.”

“Using Q as bait?”

“Of course, otherwise you wouldn’t even know he exists, _darling._ ”

“I need to talk with my boss.”

“You have fifteen minutes. There is a bathroom without cameras.” 

10

_“What happened Bond?”_ M’s face appeared in the device in his hands.

“Zinchenko happened, M.”

“That bastard crawled up from his hole? Whatever for?”

“Apparently, and Averyanov thinks she can get him on solid ground, with the condition that I kill him and give her his pride… for some compensation, of course.”

_“And you are not there killing him, why?”_

“He is a Sentinel M! He has a fucking Pride! You told me to kill Averyanov, and you never told me she had a Pride, which means I will have to carry with her Pride and his Pride and not in the seven bloody hells, you.”

_“You will kill Zinchenko and Averyanov even if you have to burn half Russia to achieve it, do you understand me, 007? I will talk to 001, so he can relieve you from the Prides and accept them and you have to stop fearing of having a Pride, you stupid man.”_

James didn’t know why he called M, if he knew that he wouldn’t talk about Q, and let’s not even talk about the fact that he knew she was going to tell him to go through with the plan.

“I am the proverbial omega wolf living in the steppes, M. You know that.”

“And bloody idiotic, too. We don’t even know what kind of Sentinel you are, because you refuse to let us test your senses or anything remotely related with the subject!”

“I’m just a second rate Sentinel M; you know that, stop giving me a hard time, damn it! You already have a lot of Alphas with you…”   

_“Go and kill your targets and come back home. I have found you a new Guide, though I don’t know why I do even bother anymore.”_

“Aye, aye ma’am.”

_“M, out.”_

11

Greyson was blinking stupidly when the woman and James Bond told him about their so called _plan._

“What? You want me to make a mistake while bringing down a criminal network so you can hunt the owner down?”

“Yes.” They both answered at the same time.

“No.” Greyson refused, which was very satisfactory to James.

“No?” The woman told him, smirking.

“No. I’m here to code, not to go chasing down _Criminal Lords.”_

“You sure you don’t want to accept?” Q narrowed his eyes, full with suspicion. James didn’t like that tone either. “Because I will put the most retarded programmer I have in my mist and let it sign like you. How would you like that? Do you think Zinchenko doesn’t know who ‘Q’ is?”

“Is this like posture torture? Picking between the rock and the hard place?”

“I would love to tie, hang you and put a hook right in your lovely arse, my dear. But I am afraid that will not be possible.” She leered and Greyson felt a great need of gasping, distressed. “Zinchenko is a Sentinel, Q. You will be fine and James will be there to put a bullet through his head.” Q was still silent. “You don’t have a choice; we are just giving you the pretention of one.” Vladlena made Q know grabbing his hair and pulling it to force the boy to lift his head. Q hissed a bit, lifting his arms to try and easy the pain.

“Vladlena.” James growled trying to remember that he would kill her after Zinchenko and enjoy it while at it. When the woman didn’t let go of his guide’s hair, James forced the woman to release the grip, by squeezing a point in her wrist that triggered her reflex of opening the fist.

When Q was free, he rubbed his head which was stinging with pain. He was going to kill Mycroft when he saw him again.

“Didn’t peg you for a bleeding heart… especially not for a guide.”

“I am more worried about the backlash of his _physic powers_ while I’m around.” The trick of lying to a sentinel was to piece parts of the truth. You were still lying, but it got a little confusing… in this time and age, everybody lied one way or another, so it was not so infallible, which worked a lot of times in his favour.

“Harsh… and here I thought you had a heart.” As expected of him, James just grunted and left her alone. “Well little Q, what are you waiting for?”

“I hate you both.” Q made them know feeling the anger pouring from his plexus and feeling a little bit betrayed.

“Adorable. He looks like he’s about to cry.”  

James thought for a moment that he was going to taste the blood in his mouth after he bit his tongue so hard.

12

Q had been trying to bring down Zinchenko’s network for the last four hours, for a moment he thought it would be bloody impossible; especially with two Alpha Sentinels breathing down his neck and his boss questioning every single second what was taking him so long.

“What is taking you so long?”

“Unless you want me to give away this location, then that is what is taking me so long.”

“Will you be able to make it work?”

“I don’t know, for god’s sake! I’m not working from my own network and I have never tried him before!”

“You make it sound so dirty.” Vladlena leered.

James just rolled his eyes and kept his pacing. He never was the one to pace, but he couldn’t do anything else, especially with Vladlena so close to Greyson, knowing what the woman wanted to do to his guide. It made him murderous of only thinking about it, because he could picture every single thing Vladlena would do to him. She would probably whip him, tie him and fuck him with an artificial Dildo. He could smell Greyson’s tears and fear, begging her to stop and for fuck’s sake, he needed to stop or something regrettable would happen.

He was ashamed to admit to have bounced when an alarm roared from the computer. Q let a relieved breathe when the alarm went off and Vladlena muttered one ‘at last’ annoyed.

“You have your trap. I want to get out of here.” Q demanded the woman bordering on a breakdown.

“Do what you want, pet.” Vladlena dismissed the boy, sitting herself where the Theos Guide had been, seconds before and began to type in the computer.

James watched attentively Greyson vacate the room, finding hard to not follow him and comfort him, which would be stupid, because James had the emotional development of a teaspoon and would only upset Greyson even more. So, he just returned to his target, so they could plan Zinchenko’s demise, which with a bunch of luck, after he killed them both, Q would take pity of him and let him fuck him or at least cuddle him, so he could get it out of his system and feel a little bit better.

13

It was Greyson’s free weekend, which he hated with a burning passion of thousands suns. Idle days made him restless. He had not been raised to be idle, especially not with a brother like Sherlock, whom was always complaining how everything was _boring_ and _stagnant,_ but it was a company policy, so he was sitting in a random café, few miles away from where he was currently working, surfing the net casually sitting while inhaling unhealthy quantities of Earl Grey. It wasn’t even a good day to be outside, it was freezing and a snow storm was forecasted, so he would even be able to stay all day outside, to quell his idleness-related anxiousness.

What he couldn’t explain was why he was suddenly feeling such jitteriness. It was like his internal guidance system was telling him something. He was in danger… but how? Nobody knew where he was; he had not done anything remotely illegal (in Russia, right now). So why couldn’t he stop fidgeting?

Pretty much the last thing he remembered doing was a mental ‘Oh crap’ and taking his left hand to his neck to touch the dart that had impacted in his skin, surely injecting a liquid. Q licked his lips, well… at least his Sentinel was around and it would flare like melting lava in a cold night in the Antarctic, unless James didn’t know how to interpret his Sentinel intern guiding system, causing him to miss the warnings that would probably put a damp on his swift rescue plan.

He was able to send a SOS, before his powers went on out of control and he passed out: shield-less and overwhelmed. Those kidnapping him were well aware of his guide and, most importantly; his Shaman status. 

14

Q woke up, feeling his brain short-circuiting on him. He was lying on a soft surface, but had a neck crick. His hands were tied in an awkward position and something was around his neck… anything around his neck that he didn’t put there beforehand, only meant troubles for himself.

It _hurt_ thinking.

He couldn’t _remember_ how to speak.

His eyes were _killing_ him, even if his lids were closed.

The crick on his neck was more on a burn sensation. Now that he tried to fight his disassociation.

He had to use all of his willpower to stand on his knees, which was almost impossible to do with his hands bound on his back and attached to whatever was on his neck. He hated those type of restrain… they cut the energy flow of the guide’s subtle bodies, giving them a headache and ninety nine plus one other issues. 

He had been kidnaped. He was able to remember. He whined softly, feeling his world burning from inside out.

_James. James. James. James. James._

Greyson had never been the one to ask for help. Not for his mummy or his daddy or anybody, but he was willing to make an exception. He was scared shitless, he didn’t have his powers; his brainpower was down to a ninety-five per cent of his usual overall capacity and he had no idea, who could possible want something from him in Russia of all places.  
  
 _James. James. James. James. James._  
 _James. James. James. James. James._

_“You are prettier than I imagined, when I was informed of you…”_ Somebody spoke in a language that was most likely Russian, but Greyson really couldn’t make head or tails of words and he was fluent in Russian! In fact he could speak natively: English, French, Russian, Dutch, German and Greek, but right now he couldn’t even _think. “The famous_ Q10-Hacker… _who apparently also is the Theos Guide…”_

Q turned his head a little to his side and back, wincing; looking everything through a textured glass, not only because his glasses were missing, but also because of the effects of his subtle bodies being disturbed. He was able to make out a silhouette, dressed sharply in pale, cool grey. His body gave out and he fell to the bed again, feeling how his heart began enter in tachycardia; whatever left coherent in him feared he would enter in cardiac arrest, not so long after: he also lost the control of his limbs.

The man walked towards where his body was and with a cane or a stick, or whatever the elongated thingy he had in his hands was; the man turned his body, so Q’s back would face the bed, which was a very unfortunate position for Greyson right now, because of his binds.

_“Who would have thought you would also be such a powerful Guide?”_

When a hand was going to touch his bare skin, a growl could be heard.

_“Ah yes, the Theos’ Spirit Animal…”_ The unknown man snuffed, pulling his hand back. _“I would have thought… never mind, see you in three days, little Guide. I doubt there will be much resistance by that time.”_

“Malachi?” Q barely managed to ask the black panther in front of him, when the man left him alone. He didn’t understand a single word of what the man was speaking of anyway. “Ezra?”

_“There is nothing for Ezra to connect anymore…”_   The black panther, Malachi; answered the poor boy, whom just whined again in deep pain and despair… how it was possible that all his subtle bodies were already so misaligned? _“Ezra says: too much stress.”_ Malachi explained the cub in the simplest words he could find, aware of the Guide’s current impairments. _“James, Averyanov, Russia in general… our apologies, but James is blind as a mole, I’m doing my best to guide him here, it’s not going well… as you might imagine. Rest, Guide. You will need it.”_  

15

In those three days, Q tried his best to meditate and align his subtle bodies without much success in his endeavours. He was fed intravenously, maintained cloth less and the room was kept as cold as it could without causing him frostbite, nobody was crazy enough to touch him.

The only thing he could muster were feelings of powerlessness and disability, which made everything worst, aided by the restrains on his body. Malachi had stayed with him as much as he could, but he needed to make James tumble if the sentinel was going to find him in Russia, which even impaired as he was, he could understand how immense Russia was for James to find him without any ‘magical’ intervention. He wished he could stand up and walk away from there, but to concatenate two words together was something out of his reach, right now. 

The third day as promised the man returned, but Q was too out of himself to care. He just put himself in the hands of the universe and he would try to fight whatever that man wanted to do to him without being able to coordinate his body or speak.

_“Release his hands.”_ The leader ordered to the two goons, which had entered the room with him; still speaking in Russia, which was making everything worst for Q.

Even if Greyson was powerless and his eyes were on a glaze, the goons still doubted to go close to him, to untie him. It was painful for his arms to return to a more comfortable position. He was barely more functional than a completely autistic person, so when the man, whom he finally knew was a sentinel, touched him; it was like suddenly everything reconnected.

Q grabbed the sentinel arms, touching as much skin as he could, desperate for some anchor to his dissociation.

_“That it is pet… come to me.”_

_Damn…_ Greyson’s subconscious thought. The only person he was willing to bond, if _something_ was to give him infinite guarantees that James would not burn, was James Elliot Bond… but if _that_ sentinel initiated something with him in that state of mind… he could only hope, whichever Sentinel was the unfortunate person to bond with him; would burn, just like his first intended did. 

_“No, no pet… I’m not the one whom will bring you out of that… I just need your name.”_

The torture would come, because even in the disassociation; Q was not willing to give up his real name, no way in hell. His name was something he would take to his grave. It didn’t matter the consequences and the price of his obstinacy.

He was unable to tell the time, but he knew that several hours had passed since the ‘Tell Me Your Name’ mantra, had begun.

He wanted to stab himself with something.

The only comfort he could derive was that his name was as protected by his subconscious as it had been when the interrogation began.

Not telling the sentinel interrogating him his name was making his soul burn, but he needed to be strong, it didn’t matter he was unable to bond without catastrophe… in this state of pure ID survival, anything could happen and would happen, so he needed to be strong… or his _subconscious_ needed to be strong.

He was basically running on instincts, which was both:  an advantage and a disadvantage to his situation.

He knew _nothing,_ he was _nothing._

He could only trust he was raving words that nothing had to do with his name or anything related to himself outside of the calcified crust that had form between the real world and his soul.

It was a silent bullet, a voice that drilled painfully in his grey matter and skin that burned like red coals that brought him forward enough to know James had found him.

_Finally._

_God, it was fucking time!_

James touch was painful and relieving at the same time. If the man would stop for five second, he might find enough of a connexion to answer him.

“Are you alright?!” James asked beyond worriedness, after putting a bullet through Zinchenko’s brain; reaching for his Guide. “What’s this?” Bond asked moving the boy’s head, so he could get a better look of the thing around his neck. “Does it explode? Q!” He tried to make the boy speak.

The _thing_ that surrounded his guide’s neck seemed to be made with some sort of reactive, dark and iridescent metal. It looked like a bloody slave collar, which made him see red and instantly regret killing Zinchenko so soon and so _painless._ The only person allowed to put collars and jewellery on his guide, was _himself_ and no one else.

Damn Zinchenko, damn Averyanov, damn MI6, damn M that had left him with no choice, but to put his One-True-Guide in such a blatant danger and without reason! He was perfectly able to find Zinchenko on his own, given time… but he refused to give M the name of his Twin Flame.

“Urgh…” Greyson tried to force himself to speak, but only clumsy sounds were able to leave his mouth. He tried to force his hand to point the collar, while he made a new attempt to speak… he only managed to wheeze, too disconcerted for coherent phrases or even simple words to form.

“Is this causing you speech impairment?” James tried to divine tapping the device, it looked like a _device._ Q gasped deep in pain and James stopped with the tapping. That resonance was enough to allow Greyson some semblance of normalcy.

“Sorry.” Q apologized, concentrating really hard in making his brain maintain the connexion caused by the resonance of the distortive metal and the Sentinel’s skin. “It… resounds… sen-tinel… brain… it short-circuits…” He did the best he could. Those few words left him tired and washed out.

“If I break it: do I make it worst? Does it explode?” James tried to find a solution given that his walking encyclopaedia was currently out-of-service.

“No. Please. _Do._ You can… t-ke… off.” Bond could notice that not being able to explain himself as fluidly as the boy was used to; was frustrating his guide. Bond wanted to tell him to have patience that it was ok, but he decided to keep silent. “Key. Better. React. Touch. Oxide. Radioactive.” Q found out it was much easier not to think in phrases, but in the simplest words with Bond touching him.  

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” James asked now entering in a fucking meltdown, because apparently the choker was radioactive.

“Guide. Fine. Atom. Dispersion.”

“What?” Q just hid his face in his hands frustrated. “Never mind! Where is the bloody key?”

“Resonate. Sentinel. Card.” He tried to explain, but he knew that his Sentinel would never get what he was trying to say. Hell, he probably wasn’t aware of how to do what Q wanted him to do. “ _Try.”_

“Oh we don’t have time for this!” Bond decided, grabbing his guide’s arm and with the sheet he was going to apply brute force to break the thing. It looked really feeble. He believed he could break it with his hands. 

“WAIT! Fabric. Burn! Oxide.  Reacts! Touch!”

“Are you saying that if I don’t have the key it will burn me?”

“Yes! No, but. Burn. Everythin- Or-organic.” 

“I don’t see it burning you or me!”

“Guide. Disperse. Atoms. Hurry! Coming!” When Q told him those two words, three seconds after that he was able to hear the steps, which begged the question how Q knew, before him; _the sentinel;_ that people were coming. He grabbed the bed sheet and was going to try and break the collar, but Q didn’t allow it. “Don’t. Can’t stabiliz~ Both. Cotton. Burn. Organic.”

“Your words are gibberish to me, Q.”  

“Forget. Help Walking Brain Impulses Severed Can’ Run or walk…” The guide told him so quickly; James had a difficult time understanding him. He just grabbed Q by his waist and pulled him up. He noticed the boy was completely naked… just his luck.

“Hurry! Three. Know, Nothing. Pretend! No Sentinel!”

“What?”

“Pri-prison.” It seemed that Q’s speech issues were returning and getting worse. At such sucky time too. “Transfer! Jack. O. Mi-n. Neck.” Q whimpered.

“Don’t speak. Never mind. You are deteriorating fast. Are you going to be ok after I get rid of that thing?” Q nodded, tripping with dense air. “Alright.”

“Us. Empathy?” Bond looked at the young man, blinking understanding absolutely nothing of that phrase. “U-use my em-empathy. Direct.” The young man faltered again.

“Whatever, yes. As long as you don’t kill us, you can do whatever you want with your witchy powers.” James told him, exerting more pressure on Q to keep him outright. Q glared at him, annoyed, but too weak to actually keep it up.

It was weird as hell, because suddenly James felt like he had a tacit understanding of the layout of the compound where they were. He knew when to turn right and when to keep walking straight. He even got shivers that he quickly learnt to interpret as ‘Change your way, _now.’_

They never stepped into another human being and James thought it was really anticlimactic the fact that he didn’t even need to shoot his gun after killing Zinchenko.

After most of the danger died out… James unwittingly released a bit the hold on his guide, which caused Q to fall on his knees.

“Sorry.” Q stretched his palm and tapped three times with the tip of his thumb on the middle of his chest. “Sign language. That means you’re ok, right?” His sign language was not the best out there, but that sign he understood. Q just nodded. “Do you mind if I carry you to the car?” Bond asked crouching to level with his guide. Q just took his hands around James’ neck.

The agent positioned his right arm on the back of his knees and his left on the neck and lifted him, walking quickly. He had to use all his self-control not to go to the nearest airport and buy two tickets to London so he could, _finally;_ get his guide to safety. But there was still his first target to get rid of.

The plane to London would have to wait.

16

James stopped in a departmental store to buy a pipe cutter, so he could get rid of the choker in Q’s neck and maybe kiss and bruise the skin himself to forget somebody else had tried to claim his guide. He didn’t even dare to go close to Averyanov’s territory, so he entered in the first car parking he found, after acquiring the cutter.  

They were basically alone in the car parking. Bond ordered his guide to lower his neck and not to move to finally be able to break the damn thing. It went down with a harsh CRACK, falling down on Q’s lap; sending the boy into debilitating cough fit that ended with retching, but not in vomit.

Bond had to lift Q’s arms, so the coughing attack would lessen. It was beginning to sound painful.   

“Better?” Bond asked when the retching was less noticeable; letting his guide’s wrists go and rubbing the boy’s back.

“Ye-yeah…” Q assured Bond panting wetly; feeling how his neurons began to properly make contact again.

“So, you’re feeling well enough to tell me what the hell that is?”

“It’s a fusion of genetically modified uranium, ionized moldavite and chalcopyrite.” It was damn good to finally be able to communicate at this level.

“What?!” James asked his guide startled.

“It short-circuits Guides’ brains…” Greyson explained his sentinel, sighing; having a hard time regulating everything.  

“Short-circuits a guide’s brain? Are you having me on? What does even mean?”

“No.” It was the only thing Q was able to will out of his tired body. The Whats and the Whys would have to wait.

“Fine. Whatever! Tell me how to get rid of that damn thing without creating an explosion, so I can take you to my hotel room and we are going to stay there until I feel you’re strong enough for me to go and kill Averyanov and get out of this god’s forsaking country.” Greyson winced at James’ harsh attitude.

The sentinel drove the streets of Russia in a tense manner. In no time, but without breaking any laws on the way; they arrived to the lavish hotel James was staying for the duration of that mission. Greyson was never the one to ‘defer’ on the contrary, he was always doing the opposite of whatever anybody told him to do, but right now he thought he would be served taking your regular guide posture: head down, eyes on your hands or feet; listening to the silent queues of the Sentinel around you, so nothing would go out of control.

“Get out of the damn car!” James ordered with all his senses screaming danger. He was generally paranoid; it was a 00 trait, a very coveted one; right now, unfortunately; he was just beyond help.  

Greyson bit his lips, noticing that his sentinel was suffering from Acute DSS or Distressed Sentinel Syndrome. Doctors would normally go to absurd lengths to avoid DS Syndrome, especially on a Sentinel with a record of going _feral._ It didn’t look like James would go feral, though; he was just… _unhinged_.

Working for MI6 without a guide meant that James Bond’s control was improbably good. He, anyway, didn’t want to tempt his fate… if James kept feeling this level of threatened and so far out of his territory, as an Alpha Sentinel; that would probably mean his sentinel would try to bond with him to even the board. 

Ignoring the fact that bonding in that situation would mean: statutory rape-bond for James along with the consuming guilt that would come after the stabilization of the bond. James could _die._ Burn out like an overheated chip. He would just ignore every other obstacle to create a bond with his intended…

The mere thought of it, made Greyson’s soul freeze.

He had never had much issue with nakedness. He was a shaman of the highest order and he had always felt comfortable in his own skin, hardly mattering its state, but he refused to go out naked, when the danger had already passed… also there was the moderate inconvenience that he was not strong enough to walk on his own, but those were just: _semantics…_

“You’re naked and cannot walk. Well, fuck.” James noticed like reading on his Guide’s mind. Q just looked at his Sentinel apologetic. “I love you… I really do, but I wish I had never met you.”

“Well, if wishes were horses…” Q muttered rebellious, not being able to register the hurt in James’ words.

The 00 agent just stripped himself off his suit jacket and gave it to Q. It was a good thing that Q was a good few inches shorter than him and he was so thin, the garment was able to close twice on the length than when he was carrying it. It looked like some sort of dress.

“We are going to enter by the services doors, are you strong enough to scramble us?”

“Yeah…” Greyson affirmed tiredly.

“Well, go on. Are you ready?”

“Go.” The physicist granted his sentinel green light. 

James really was not used to everything going so smoothly when he was a variable in the equation. His treacherous mind almost caught him in the… and what if…? Of his potential bond with Greyson, the boy certainly came in handy, when infiltration was the dish du jour, which with him mostly was.

When they arrived to the hotel room, James was staying; Q was quick to notice that his Sentinel relaxed minutely. He was left on the King bed and James immediately shot himself to the minibar to ingest alcohol. Not that Greyson would hold the vice against him, but he still wanted to argue against. 

James drank half a glass, before the trembling on his hand make itself evident again.

With a level desperation Greyson had never seen before, James walked towards the bed with clumsy movements, getting rid of the rest of his clothes and getting on the sheet; grabbing him… he had to admit he tensed, but James never make a move to get rid of the suit jacket that covered his body. James was trying to stabilize an inexistent bond… alright; the man was just cuddling him… that was a first.

Greyson felt shivers running his body when James breathed on him. He didn’t know what to do or say, so he just stayed there; taking cues from his sentinel, just as guides usually were taught to do. He had to admit that it felt nice; of course that by grace of being the younger and guide of many sentinel brothers, he has always been (over)protected, but this was different… this was a whole new level of protection and security, he had never felt before.

He supposed the difference was on the fact _this_ was so welcome to his frazzled nerves and his betrayed body… he just let go of his consciousness, knowing that in James’ arms nothing would happen. 

17

Waking up again for Q was so disorientating, he almost hyperventilated. He couldn’t feel James anywhere near him and he was cold and spent. He felt cheap and careless. His family was going to tear him to pieces and his sentinel would try to stop his fate and he was going to end in the gutter just like himself. He needed a mobile with international capabilities, because his mummy was probably having a heart attack by now.

The water being flushed down the toilet, made Q jump out of his skin… well, at least he knew where James was now. Green and Blue met the moment James close the door behind his back, with his hands still moist.

“I was going to try and wake you up, but nature called.” James admitted half-uncomfortable and a half-smile appeared in the corner of Greyson’s lips. The agent frowned a little, but then he let him go. “How are you feeling?”

“Cheap, used… take your pick…” The young man admitted without shame to his sentinel.  

“I won’t even… are you fucking kidding me? You took all of that like a champion! What else could you possible want from yourself?”

“It’s… you wouldn’t understand, I hold so much power inside and a simple collar destroyed me…”

“You have a flair for dramatics, haven’t you?” James scoffed, rolling his eyes; not believing his guide. Damn overachievers. “You are seventeen; give yourself a goddamn break… are you hungry?”

“No.”

“That is a lie.”

“I’m not hungry; they fed me intravenously three times day and gave me water four times a day. They were trying to force a bond out of desperation, not torture me.” Greyson sighed when he saw the incredulity on James’ eyes. “If you are weak when the Salvation Bond is in place, the body; once recovered has high possibilities of rejecting the bond killing them both. It’s why Salvation Bonds are broken by a High Priest-Shaman after the danger has passed, even if the pair is intending to be bonded forever…”   
  
“You just spoke in gibberish to me… what the hell is a Salvation Bond?”

“Never mind…” Q decided deflated. He needed to remember that even if James was his One-True-Sentinel he didn’t know anything about his world. “How are you feeling?”

“You were the one kidnapped, but you are asking me how I feel?”

“You were suffering from acute DSS; lesser people would have fallen.”

“I was not suffering from Distressed Augmentation!” James spat at his guide, with his eyes gleaming menacingly.

“Oh really?” Greyson accused him.

“As long as I don’t feel any Sentinel or bonded guide around you… I’m fine…” James was never going to be able to win one over his guide, was he?

“You are not alone; James, but you must want me there. I’m not the enemy.” 

“I don’t want this shit, Q!”

“I didn’t either, but ignoring the situation will not make it go away…” He muttered annoyed and turned his back to his sentinel, closing his eyes softly; if only to ignore the man.

James had a: ‘I am sorry’ in the tip of his tongue, but he stubbornly refused to say it out loud. For some strange reason, he had the feeling; one didn’t need to speak aloud with a shaman/ESP-guide to convey one’s mind, which was so unfair! He was not ready to say please, forgive me, but they knew it anyway.

He needed to get back to London! NO! Scratch that! He needed to get drunk and though luck, because dulling his senses in such a precarious situation, attracted him as much as a bullet to the head.  

18

“I am alive…” Q told his parents curling his toes, when he was finally able to call to England. “No, yes… I was kidnapped and got myself out of alignment, but I was rescued… three days? Yes, three days…” He was well aware that James had a lot of questions, because his mother was not making a scene. “A British agent… I don’t know… luck? He was just _there…_?”

James needed to teach his guide how to successfully tell a lie, especially to someone that knew you as well as your fucking _own_ mother.

_Are you lying to me Greyson Quinn Holmes?_

James winced.

“No?”

_Is that a question?_

“No?”

_Is that agent there with you?_

“N _o_?”

“Oh god, give me the bloody phone, you useless…!” James exploded taking the mobile away from Greyson’s hands, making the young man bounce a little, startled. “Ma’am? This is Special Agent 007, Bond… correct, you have great memory ma’am, I, indeed; was the agent from Stockholm.” Greyson winced a little, because for his mother to add two plus two was just _that_ easy. “Yes, ma’am, of course I will protect your cub with my life. I will take him to England or to wherever you tell me to take him other orders be dammed. If you want him at the steps of your house, there you will have him… certainty ma’am, I will keep you posted…” And with those words the connexion was lost. James frowned and looked at the mobile, confused. She didn’t ask to speak with her son again. The agent looked at his guide and opened his mouth to say something, but Greyson beat him to the punch:

“Before you get any ideas both of my parents are Sentinels…”

“Are you kidding me? How does that even work?”

“I don’t know, I don’t go pondering about my parents’ relationship, Bond!”   

19

Greyson’s wrist watch told him it was three am in the morning when James stabbed Averyanov in her pancreas, creating enough damage to kill her, but not immediately… getting the shivers, knowing that James was planning on torturing the woman. He broke into the room. Nobody was allowed to enter there, except Averyanov’s guide and he had looped all the CCTV cameras around there.

“That’s enough Bond! Do kindly remember that you are a British agent under the name of Her Majesty, the Queen! Not a vulgar mercenary!” Greyson scolded his sentinel, taking the military knife from the blond’s hand.  James growled. “Don’t you dare to growl at me, Sentinel!” The guide ordered the man, hitting him, not causing any damage; with the hilt of the knife. He was barely touching the bloodied blade, to even cause any discomfort to the sentinel. 

Averyanov, whom was already coughing blood, looked at them both with surprise, remembering:

_Clear astonishment in James’ eyes when he finally noticed that it was that particular hacker in the room… she was well aware that Q’s lithe frame turned a lot of the Sentinels’ sights in her pride, but she didn’t understand what all the fuss about; was. Q was emotionally stunted, underweighted and with thick glasses. A little bit nuts about computers and bombs, in one word: unstable, but that wasn’t it: James’ surprise was something else…_

There was her answer: the answer to why a soulless killer like James Bond held so much distrust and unwillingness to put the cub in such blatant danger… the clear overprotection and overreaction.  

“Of course you are his Sentinel…” Averyanov snorted, coughing some more blood. “Are you an idiot, James? You have _that_ as guide and you don’t want him? Hindsight is 20/20 indeed.”

“Let’s go, Q.”

“Kill her, Bond.” Greyson stopped his Sentinel, before he could be dragged away, pulling the gun James had and putting the unsheathed armament on Bond’s hand. So she would stop agonizing. _“Kill her!_ Have a heart!” 

Bond grabbed Greyson by his arm and taking a few steps back to make some distance; Bond pulled the hammer back, shooting Vladlena in the middle of her forehead. The younger boy winced, feeling his ears ring, noticing the blood splatters where Averyanov head was pointing, before being shot.

“Ezra.” Greyson called for his spirit animal. Bond was able to see a majestic, white phoenix appear in front of them. “Help her cross, please.”

The phoenix surrounded with all its body a small ball of light and then he turned itself in a bigger and brighter ball of light, disappearing in a play of sparks.

James Bond wanted to know how was that his life, now.

Q seemed about to say something, but James didn’t allow it.

“I don’t wanna know. Let’s go.”

20

The ride to the airport was made in silence. Luckily for Q he had never unpacked, unless you counted for his computer(s) which Bond had acquired before killing Averyanov. So everything was packed and ready to be boarded into a plane.

James didn’t allow him to carry his things. The sentinel just paid someone else to do it for them, Q did put his foot down and clung to his main-portable computer like a limpet, so that was the only thing he had been ‘allowed’ to keep on his person. Keeping with the sentinel’s strides was a hardship, so Q was usually two steps back, no matter how much he hurried to walk side by side.

The mundane woman whom sold them the tickets was a nice brunette whom made the mistake to try to flirt with James, while still in a Distressed State; encouraged by the fact that James spoke perfect Russian, of course the attempt lasted until the blond growled at her, giving away his sentinel status, only Sentinels growled like that… it was that also the same moment when the brunette noticed the ‘mousy’ geek, two steps away from the clear Alpha Sentinel, the so-dreaded _Guide._

_“My apologies, sir. We have a flight in four hours from now direct to Heathrow airport. Twin-first…”_

_“Just give me whatever ticket will get me to England as fast as possible.”_

_“That would be fifty-three thousand sixty-eight hundred and five rubles, sir…”_ The woman threaded carefully.

Bond just gave threw her a pretty shiny black card.  

_“Excuse me.”_ Q had to interrupt the transaction.

_“Yes? Ergh… sir?”_ No mundane ever knew how to treat a guide, especially in the presence of their sentinels. What did they think? _No,_ he was not going to go there.

_“Here. I’m not good in planes…”_ Q explained to the woman giving her a seven inches black wallet. The woman immediately directed her eyes towards James, which annoyed Greyson immensely. _“Excuse me; it is I whom you are speaking with, not him.”_

James had to do his best to maintain a straight face, when the woman’s sight momentarily returned to him. He only cocked an eyebrow calmly. Mundanes writhing? That was his second pastime after sex.

_“O-of course, sir… my apologies…”_ She offered stuttering. _“Bhoze moi… excuse me for a moment while I bring my supervisor. Just one second… please.”_ She pleaded and ran away, clearly distressed and willing to pass this to his supervisor.

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” Q answered calmly.

“Alright.” James accepted the answer, trusting that Greyson knew how to gauge his sentinel reactions, better than he could.

The supervisor was augmented-friendly, so James was able to relax. Greyson was _mostly_ ok with the situation, because the mundane would relapse and try to shift the conversation to the sentinel. Greyson never allowed it, though and James was unusually supportive on letting him fight his own battles.

James discovered that ESP guides sometimes didn’t handled well being trapped in a metal container for hours, miles away from the ground; hence the wallet, which contained three auto-injectors, which contained: half-suppressor, half-sedative.

Scared shitless of touching a guide that belonged to an Alpha sentinel, the flight-attendants and the supervisor quickly turned to James, asking him if he knew how to inject the auto-injectors and thus they had to explain to him, why his guide needed to be medicated. Neither James nor Greyson were happy about the situation.

James had to pretty much carry Greyson to their cabin in the plane. Leaving Russian soil was like something disconnected from James’ brain and he fell asleep with his guide close by.

21

Having to worry about a guide was exhausting to a Sentinel’s brain, which might explain why he almost jumped out of his hide, when the plastic doors were knocked and he noticed that Greyson was not drooling where he had left him, before he had also passed-out. He went to the sliding doors, opening them and noticing that a man was there with a passed-out Greyson in his arm.

Oh boy…

“Is he yours?” A tall, black haired man asked him, concerned.

An Alpha Sentinel, American, a government agent… just like himself… he was probably from New York, maybe, he didn’t have a distinguishable accent; spoke.  

“I found him passed-out in the bathroom…” The guide made appearance, also looking really worried. It was lucky for James, given his current frazzled state; the sentinel was bonded. The boy was another teenager of the age of Greyson, with long, mahogany hair and big and innocent light brown eyes.

In the back of his head, it made James feel much better that he was not the only Sentinel in the world forced to rob the cradle with a Guide half his age.

“Sorry, yes… I…” He was too tired and too out of himself for this shit.

“Fell asleep and lost him? I understand, first time flying with an ESP Guide?” The Alpha Sentinel asked him without judgement.

“Yes.”

“It’s ok; just hold him down while you sleep. The PKL doesn’t have the ability to force the body into paralyzes.” The man kept explaining to him, giving Greyson back. “He is basically in a REM state without the regular safeguards.”

“He is sleepwalking?” James asked worried.

“Yes, but no… his body has been forced to shut down the prefrontal cortex while the hypothalamus and the pineal gland are forced into an altered state. Not much time to get the whole PKL explanation?” The guide asked him with those big, doe eyes. Another know-it-all genius… James didn’t know what to think about his current situation.

“I’m afraid we were in a bit of a hurry.” He decided not to explain that they were not bonded and that thus he didn’t have any rights to know about Greyson.   

“Try not to miss the next dose.” The sentinel told him kindly. “He might screw with the plane’s automatic systems if he loses the drug in his system.”

“I have an alarm…” James assured them; already having been explained what would happen if he missed a dose.

“Then I’ll leave you to it. Let’s go.” The black-haired man told his guide. The guide nodded and then bowed a little with his head at him, going away; following his sentinel’s lead.

James lifted his guide, cradling him and taking him to the double seating arrangement; to return to sleep, hugging Greyson like an octopus. Now he understood why the seats in the Sentinels/Guides-friendly planes where arranged the way they were and why the sentinels were always breathing on their guides’ necks, even if it was not necessary.

_The hell!_ It was necessary! It was so necessary that, were the bathroom capable of doing such things, Greyson would have flushed himself!

He needed to take Greyson back to his home, ASAP. He was not a babysitter!

22

James now knew that ESP guides needed to travel in Augmented-friendly airlines or not travel by air at all. Three of the guides traveling in that flight were barely walking, but they were already awake, which was just a matter of the Sentinel herding their guides or the flight attendants helping the unbounded guides.

Greyson on the other hand, he didn’t know what Greyson was right now.

“Sir?” A shy flight attendant asked James. The agent noticed she had a wheelchair in her hands.

“Yes?”

“Greyson Holmes’ Sentinel?”

“Why do you know that?”

“He is an Elite traveller with Lewelling airlines, sir. And he’s never awake when the planes land, it’s done this way so he doesn’t reach for the Tower and crash all the remaining planes on air.”

“Are you joking?” James asked traumatized. How an anaemic nerd was able to crash planes while half-drugged?

“No. Here…” She offered him the wheelchair. “The Holmes’ chauffeur is already waiting to take him back to Sussex.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus…”

James would have wanted to say that he was able to put Greyson in the aforementioned car, but… but everybody in the Heathrow airport seemed to know who Greyson was, so he eventually just lost sight of his unbounded guide. People did not have the same courtesy that in the plane or in Russia, knowing that Greyson was not bonded or able even to.    

He had to put Greyson out of his mind, because it was that or track Greyson down and take him, himself to Sussex. He stubbornly just paid more attention to the carrousel, waiting for his luggage.

“My name is Violet Holmes.” James jumped when a woman, dressed in pristine form; appeared in front of him. “I believe we spoke on the phone?”

“Yes, um~ ma’am.” Hard to forget that aristocratic, cold voice…

“Good, you are coming with me. Everything else can wait. Your luggage will be taken to your flat, come, Agent Bond…”

James felt like sending to Alec a text that read: _‘I’ll probably be killed. I’ll keep you posted.’_

23

They boarded a black Chrysler, sleek and pristinely maintained. Inside it smelled like menthe and frankincense, it was very disconcerting for James.

“Can I do something for you ma’am?” James asked fearing that they would try to kill him there. The windows were completely blacked out.

“I am merely doing a bit of damage control, before my Husband and the remaining of my children decide to create ballyhoo. I have never had a guide, you see? Unfortunately, my husband lost his to war and my older children’s first guide was Greyson. I’m afraid to say that there is no much logic when Greyson is concerned…”  

“I don’t think I follow…”

“No. I don’t think you understand nor follow the deepness of the meaning of being a Theos Guide. I know all of them; unfortunately they don’t always know each other or understand what it’s happening to them. For you, I better introduce myself as Rosalie Wilson…”

That was like a frozen bucket on his head.

“You are the first 007?” James asked carefully.

“I am one of your predecessors, indeed; the first of them all.”

People would excuse him, if he suddenly felt nauseated.

“I am listening, intently.” Bond admitted to his predecessor.

“I’m glad. Now, I will take you to your flat, you will clean yourself, sleep and meet me for dinner at seven sharp. Do we understand each other?”

“Of course, ma’am…”

“Also, I want every six month a full blood count and an update on your life, including people you have slept with and missions you have done in that period of time. Do not worry your pretty head; I will call M in case you commit the grievous mistake of forgetting… I know the old dog, we have done missions together. There is no need to inform Greyson about any of this.” She smiled at him, coldly and then the ride passed in completely silence.

To: James Bond  
 _You still alive? –AT_

_Ask me that tomorrow –JB_

_Bozhe moi! I will! –AT_  

**TBC**

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WORK IN PROGRESS. I don't have a BETA and yes, I make mistakes, you don't need to fixate on them and keep telling me about it. I re-read and normally change stuff along the way, nothing is set.


End file.
